


as my conscience is consumed

by overlying



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Abuse of Authority, Bloodplay, Bondage, Breathplay, Cock Warming, Collars, Consensual Mind Control, Consensual Non-Consent, Crossdressing, Emotional Manipulation, Enemas, Extremely Dubious Consent, Feminization, Impact Play, M/M, Non-Consensual Somnophilia, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Object Insertion, Omorashi, Petplay, Possession, Praise Kink, Puppet Cloud Strife, Safeword Fail, Wound Fucking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-23
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:34:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 17
Words: 26,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27165286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/overlying/pseuds/overlying
Summary: xvii. blackmailHis body, in exchange for the world, his friends, everything precious to him. How could he not?(a kinktober collection, but with whumptober prompts. warnings at the start of each chapter!)
Relationships: Sephiroth/Cloud Strife
Comments: 72
Kudos: 286





	1. waking up restrained

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What the fuck are you doing?” he spits, still struggling to turn onto his back. There isn’t quite enough slack on the rope and the pain keeps making him lose his focus. His hands move instinctually, too, but the rope stays taut against his wrists. 
> 
> Sephiroth smiles. “Taking what’s mine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i've been really hesitant to post these, but i'll be taking it at my own pace! 7 of these are done, the rest are pending probably for the rest of the year. i am slow and still getting used to writing smut, forgive me.
> 
> **warnings for this chapter:** consensual non-consent, bondage, very brief breathplay

He wakes up to darkness. 

Then he realizes he’s face down on the mattress, and tries to turn—except his arms don’t move, and the pain against his wrists is rope binding them together. The same with his ankles, except they’re spread apart and probably tied to the legs of the bed.

He turns his head to the side to try to make out what the _fuck_ is going on, and then—

“Oh, you’re awake.”

Every nerve in his body lights up with panic, and he violently twists in an attempt to flip over, pulling the ropes binding his legs in a way that makes him wince. He manages to lie on his side, breath coming in short pants as Sephiroth comes into his field of vision, the sound of his boots against the floor ringing in his ears.

“What the _fuck_ are you doing?” he spits, still struggling to turn onto his back. There isn’t quite enough slack on the rope and the pain keeps making him lose his focus. His hands move instinctually, too, but the rope stays taut against his wrists. 

Sephiroth smiles. “Taking what’s mine.”

Cloud wants to fucking kill him. Gods, he can’t even remember how he’d ended up like this. Sephiroth cups his cheek with a hand and he immediately moves to bite at him—Sephiroth simply withdraws and slaps him, _hard._ Cloud grits his teeth against the pain spiking in his cheek and glares back with all the malice he can.

“Let me go, you fucking _bastard—_ ”

Sephiroth shoves his head back into the mattress and for a moment Cloud can’t breathe at all, gasping, writhing in his bonds as Sephiroth holds him down with only a hand. His chest burns and his head is spinning and he can’t do a thing, utterly helpless against Sephiroth—until finally, finally he relents, and Cloud twists his neck to the side desperately for air. 

“Your defiance is beautiful, my pet.” Sephiroth places a hand on his back, pressing him down right as he tries to move again. He flinches under it, though there’s nowhere for him to go. The touch slides down, down, and even through the layer of his top and Sephiroth’s gloves he can’t help but shudder. His breaths are still shaky, trying to recover.

Sephiroth doesn’t stop, hand sliding to cup his ass and _fuck,_ fuck, no, he writhes uselessly against his bonds and chokes out, “Don’t fucking touch me.”

There’s nothing he can do. It’s now increasingly obvious why his legs are spread like that and no matter how much he strains against them the ropes don’t give. Sephiroth slides a hand under him so he can push Cloud’s pants down just over his ass and the feel of leather tracing against his skin makes him want to scream. 

Sephiroth’s fingers start to trace around his hole. “Don’t,” he gasps, “don’t—”

“Really?” Sephiroth's other hand, still under him, slides down to press against his dick. Cloud jerks up, trying to squirm away from his touch, but Sephiroth only moves with him, sending waves of horrifying arousal through him. He bites back a pathetic noise. It’s only—ugh, it’s only physical, his body betraying him with every touch of Sephiroth’s gloved hand against his dick. The delicious slide of leather ensures that he’s fully hard against the mattress when Sephiroth finally withdraws, desperately fighting the urge to grind himself down on it. 

The respite is almost worse—his whole body is tight with arousal now, and it’d be so easy to just get himself off in this absolutely humiliating position—he can’t give Sephiroth that kind of satisfaction. He tries to lift his hips to lessen the pressure on his dick and instead meets the press of Sephiroth’s touch against his back again. 

“Stay still, pet.” Bare fingers meet the curve of his ass—Sephiroth had removed his gloves—slick and pressing right against his hole. 

Cloud freezes. “Don’t, don’t—”

Sephiroth presses a finger into him, and Cloud lets out an embarassing, pathetic whimper. 

“It will be much more painful if you don’t relax, my pet. Unless you want it to hurt.” 

He can’t—he can’t give in, but his body is failing him, he’s trapped in his bonds, and Sephiroth’s finger only moves deeper. His face burns with shame. He tries to breathe more steadily.

Sephiroth takes the opportunity to slide in a second finger, spreading his hole, brushing against a spot that makes him shudder and moan before he can bite it back. 

“Oh?” Sephiroth presses against it again, and Cloud buries his face back in the mattress to muffle his sounds. Every touch is a jolt of pleasure that makes him want to squirm away, though it only forces his dick to grind against the bed again. He can’t help straining against the ropes, the pain of it only seeming to heighten the pleasure arcing up his body. Sephiroth fucks him with his fingers, the slick sound obscene and mixing with his moans, and he’s _close,_ it’s too much, it’s—

Sephiroth stops. Cloud whines, high-pitched and needy and empty, so fucking out of it, not coming. 

He turns his head to the side. “You—you fucking—” 

_“_ You want this?” 

Cloud is not going to give in. He isn’t. Even if he’s so fucking far gone he just wants to _come._

“Just ‘please’ will do for now.” There’s the sound of fabric, the clink of metal. Sephiroth is—Sephiroth is straddling him, dick right against his ass. He resists the urge to push back.

“Please,” he says, barely above a whisper. Sephiroth hums and presses forward.

Everything narrows down to the feeling of Sephiroth slowly moving inside him, like he’s actually trying to be gentle. Cloud feels so, so full, his senses completely overwhelmed as Sephiroth slides all the way into him. and then stops moving.

“You _asshole—_ ”

“Still have fight left in you, pet?”

“Just—get on with it already.”

“If you insist.” 

Sephiroth thrusts, right against that spot that makes his whole body shiver with pleasure. His moans fill the air, too overwhelmed for him to try holding them back, toes curling, ankles and wrists cutting into rope. Every thrust presses his dick into the mattress, his hips move of their own accord, and fuck, he’s coming, gross and sticky against the sheets and pushing back onto Sephiroth—he rides out the waves of bliss as Sephiroth moves faster, thrusts in all the way one final time and comes inside of him.

Cloud whimpers as Sephiroth withdraws, achingly empty, come trailing down his thighs. “Fuck.”

“Indeed.” He hears the sound of rope, and the pull on his legs releases. Sephiroth gently unties his hands, too, and turns him over on his back. “How sore are you?”

“Mmm. Good. Probably gonna regret it later, but good.” Bright red lines encircle his wrists. He likes the way they still sting as Sephiroth caresses them, checking for any injuries. He does the same with his legs, then, satisfied, settles on the bed next to him.

“We need to wash the sheets.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, not moving. They’re both terribly gross and sticky but he can’t bring himself to care. Sephiroth kisses him, tongue sliding into his mouth. Cloud returns it, eyes fluttering closed, body exhausted, drifting off to sleep.


	2. in the hands of the enemy // collars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I think you deserve a treat,” he says, lifting his hand to drag Cloud’s gaze upward. He nods enthusiastically and hums in agreement. “Such an eager puppy.” Sephiroth cups his chin. “Open for me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **content in this chapter:** your regular dubcon puppet cloud, petplay, praise kink

It’s Sephiroth in the apartment next to his. Except that’s impossible.

“Put that away, would you?” 

He tightens his grip on his sword and says nothing. Sephiroth smiles like he has all the time in the world.

“Oh, Cloud...you used to be so obedient. Do I need to teach you again?”

His hands are shaking, part of him insisting he drop it, part of him screaming at him to attack. He's frozen in place, pinned by Sephiroth’s words and gaze, fighting desperately to keep control of his own movements. Some deeply buried instinct wants him to drop to his knees. His body remembers, his mind doesn’t.

“Sit.”

The command clicks into place. Everything else vanishes except his want—his  _ need _ —to obey.

He kneels, sitting back on the heels of his feet. The sword clatters to the ground beside him. He puts his hands behind his back and looks up expectantly.

“Good boy.” Sephiroth pets his head and he arches into the touch, pleased. He's doing good. “Arms up for me, pet.” 

He lifts his arms straight up, and Sephiroth leans down to grasp the edge of his top and pull it up, up, up. His fingertips trace Cloud’s torso and he shivers a bit as they brush across his nipples. Sephiroth pulls the shirt over his head gently, placing it on the bed. Cloud relaxes his arms.

Sephiroth caresses his neck where the band of black leather still sits, marking him as Sephiroth’s for all eternity. He grasps the edge and pulls a little, making Cloud gasp—he jerks forward with the motion, the collar cutting into his airway for a moment. It sends a jolt of instinctive pleasure down his spine, comforting and familiar. 

“On the bed, and undress.”

His body moves before his mind even fully processes the words, getting up from the floor to sit on the edge of the bed. He undresses the rest of the way and gets on all fours, legs spread apart and ready without Sephiroth needing to tell him.

“You’re doing so well,” Sephiroth praises, and another pleasurable shudder rolls over him like a wave. He pulls at Cloud’s collar again, just gently. Cloud savors the comforting feel of leather against his throat and moans quietly. 

(Something picks at the back of his mind. Did he do something wrong? But no, his master was treating him well, everything was fine. He couldn’t quite shake the feeling, though.)

“I think you deserve a treat,” he says, lifting his hand to drag Cloud’s gaze upward. He nods enthusiastically and hums in agreement. “Such an eager puppy.” Sephiroth cups his chin. “Open for me?”

Cloud parts his lips automatically, and gloved fingers press against his tongue. He swallows obediently around them as they slide deeper, almost enough to hit the back of his throat. He resists the urge to gag as Sephiroth fucks him with his fingers, tears beading in his eyes, savoring the taste of leather in his mouth.  _ More,  _ he pleads silently. He wants to be filled properly.

Finally, finally, Sephiroth withdraws his hand, trailing spit from his mouth that he wipes on Cloud’s cheek. He undresses himself, only enough to be able to press his dick against Cloud’s lips, smearing wetness across his face. For a moment, he pauses, admiring his pet’s beautiful, trusting, wanton expression, tracing his lips. Without warning, he digs one hand in Cloud’s hair and thrusts deep into his mouth, making him nearly choke. 

“So good for me, my pet,” he says, wiping a stray tear from Cloud’s eyes. He moans softly around Sephiroth’s dick. The head rests at the back of his throat, giving him a constant urge to gag, but he swallows to keep it down. Sephiroth simply holds him there for a while, letting him adjust and feel the fullness of it all. Arousal settles deeply in between his legs, though he ignores it in favor of pleasing his master.

Sephiroth pulls back, still gripping his hair, until just the tip rests in his mouth—then thrusts back in, causing him to choke briefly. His whole body flinches with it, another pang of arousal shuddering through his core. 

He continues to fuck Cloud’s mouth, more slowly at first and then moving faster as Cloud becomes more accustomed to it, remembering how to take him properly. Mind-numbing bliss washes over him, fulfilling his purpose as his master’s, being used so utterly and thoroughly—his own dick is hard and aching to be touched, but it doesn’t matter when he has his master’s pleasure in front of him. There’s something so peaceful, so right about the way cock fills his mouth like he was made for it, made to take his master like this, over and over and over. Even with just this—it’s so overwhelming, too much, so good—

Sephiroth’s hands tighten painfully in his hair as he comes down Cloud’s throat, and he swallows eagerly, licking gently to clean the tip as Sephiroth eases his dick back out. “Good puppy.” He pets his head soothingly, Cloud arching into the touch. He moves around the bed to stroke Cloud’s dick, causing a high-pitched whine to tear from his throat. It was much too sensitive, right after he had just—

“Oh, pet, did you come from just that? How cute.” Sephiroth withdraws his hand, covered in white streaks, lifting it to Cloud’s mouth. Cloud cleans them reverently, tongue sliding in between the fingers to get every last drop until the leather shines with his spit. He swallows, then opens his mouth to show.

“You’ve done so, so well.” Cloud smiles happily, proud of himself for being so good. “I’m so glad you remembered your true place, my pet. Now, rest. You still have a long journey ahead of you.”

Cloud nods, finally relaxing on the bed and flipping onto his back, worn out and content. Sephiroth leans down to place a gentle kiss on his forehead. His eyes flutter closed to savor the sensation, and soon enough, he drifts off to sleep.


	3. manhandled

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cloud makes it into SOLDIER. Sephiroth takes advantage of Cloud’s unenhanced body one last time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **content in this chapter:** underage (cc cloud), power imbalance/abuse of authority, emotional manipulation, handcuffs

”I’m home,” Sephiroth calls, closing the door behind him.

“Welcome back!” Cloud immediately gets up, rushing to greet him with a kiss. Sephiroth indulges him, lifting him just a bit off the ground so their lips meet, then gently sets him back down. He’s grinning, practically vibrating with energy as Sephiroth takes a good look at him.

“What are you so excited about, pet?” 

“Oh! The letter came. You told me not to look at it without you, so…” Cloud glances at the counter where he usually leaves the mail. 

“Did I? Go ahead and open it, then.” 

Cloud nods and rushes to get it open, ripping the envelope hastily. He hisses, withdrawing his hand—blood beads at the tip of his thumb. 

Sephiroth takes hold of his hand in his, examining the injury. “You need to be more careful, pet. I can’t always take care of you.”

“I—I’m sorry. I was just—” Cloud’s voice breaks a little, his other hand still clutching the letter tightly. 

“Mmm, don’t worry about it.” Sephiroth casts a quick Cure, running his thumb over the newly healed skin. “Go on.”

“O-okay.” Cloud exhales, tension dropping from his shoulders, and carefully extracts the letter from inside the envelope, trying to use his nails more than his fingertips. He holds the folded paper between his thumb and index finger gingerly, not opening it. “Actually...could you look at it?” His bright blue eyes are full of anxiousness, not quite looking at Sephiroth.

“You don’t want to see it yourself?” Sephiroth asks, reaching to take it from him. 

“I…I just want you to see it first.” Cloud smiles nervously. His lips tremble a little. It’s adorable, really.

Sephiroth indulges him, opening the paper with his gloved fingers carefully, taking his time to smooth it out between his hands. The whole thing is a formality, in any case—who was going to refuse his own recommendation?—but he still loves the way Cloud’s eyes widen with anticipation. 

“Hmm….” He scans the paper as if he doesn’t know what it says already. “Let’s see...oh, ‘Congratulations, you’ve been accepted into the—’”

Cloud gasps, almost jumping in place. “R-really?”

“Yes, really.” Sephiroth offers the letter back to him, and Cloud immediately takes it, reading it himself. His eyes keep flicking back and forth as if he can't believe it. If Sephiroth had known Cloud was going to react so wonderfully, he would have done this much, much sooner. 

“Oh,” Cloud says, practically radiating excitement, “we can work together now! Officially!” 

“Yes, pet. No more ‘training missions.’” Sephiroth tilts his head to the side. “Though, I am a little disappointed.”

Cloud deflates almost immediately. His shoulders droop and his smile falters. Oh, Sephiroth likes that look on him even more. Cloud asks, hesitantly, “Why? What’s wrong?”

“Do you know what mako injections are, Cloud?”

“Umm...they make you a lot stronger and faster. Like you.”

He nods. “You’re right.”

Cloud looks at him expectantly, but he doesn’t explain any further. He wrings his hands, rocks back and forward on his feet. “Well…”

“Yes?”

“I don’t get it.” His brow furrows in frustration. “I mean, why is that bad?”

“Why is what bad, pet?”

“The—the mako. When they make you stronger.”

“When they make  _ you  _ stronger.”

Cloud bites his lip, still not getting it. Oh, he’s really dragged this out, but he can’t resist. Not when Cloud always makes such innocent expressions.

“I’m sorry, but...but why is that bad? Me being stronger?” The moment the words come out of his mouth, he immediately retracts into himself, quickly adding, “I’m really sorry, sir, I just don’t understand, I mean you’ve been helping me train all this time and I—”

“Shhh.” Sephiroth reaches out to place a hand on Cloud’s back, rubbing in circles to soothe him. Slowly, Cloud relaxes against his touch, breathing normally again. His eyes flutter closed as Sephiroth continues, the steady motion of his hand grounding him.

When he stops moving, Cloud asks, “Sir?” 

“Go get yourself ready for me.”

“Okay,” he says, still a little shaky, and heads towards the bedroom. Sephiroth picks up the letter, which had fallen out of Cloud’s hands. He decides to keep it, entering his office, folding it, and placing it in the bottom drawer of his desk. Hmm, how long should he leave Cloud for? Ten minutes? Thirty? He’d been such a mess after Sephiroth had once waited a whole hour before returning—though as much as he wants a repeat of that, he does have a different goal in mind tonight.

He stays in the office for another five minutes, rearranging the paperwork for the day and imagining Cloud’s nervous anticipation. When he finally enters the bedroom, he doesn’t acknowledge Cloud at first, heading to the closet to change into a more comfortable shirt and lounge pants, keeping his gloves on. Cloud, like the obedient puppet he is, stays utterly silent, not moving a muscle. Sephiroth can hear his quiet, steady breathing, obviously having calmed down from earlier after getting a moment to recollect himself. Good. It would be better for surprising him.

Cloud lies on the bed naked, one hand already in the cuffs attached to the headboard, legs spread slightly so that he can see the base of the pink plug nestled in his ass. His eyes flick away in alarm when he notices Sephiroth staring. 

“I think we’ll do something different today,” he says casually, enjoying the way Cloud’s eyes widen. “Come stand in front of me.”

Cloud hesitates, unsure. He’d been expecting to be punished, or at least to perform their usual routine. Whenever Sephiroth tried something new, he normally started  _ with _ Cloud. Breaking the pattern was an idea that Sephiroth had always entertained, but only for something really special. Like this. And it would be doubly sweet later, for the lingering fear of something unexpected would stay fresh in Cloud’s mind for weeks. 

“Well?” 

Cloud unlocks the cuff and slides awkwardly off the bed as the plug shifts a bit. He stands, gaze aimed at the floor. 

It’s nice this way—Cloud barely comes up to his chest, so much smaller than him. So easy to break.

“Resist me.” 

Cloud looks up, startled, but doesn’t dare to say anything.

In a flash, he pushes Cloud by the shoulders, pinning him to the bed as he falls backward. It’s then that Cloud understands, squirming violently to get out of his hold. Of course it’s useless, but seeing him try so valiantly is beautiful. He grabs both of Cloud’s arms roughly, the gloves surely chafing his skin as he pushes the wrists above him so that he can hold them down with one hand. Cloud kicks out at him wildly, so he pins Cloud’s thighs with his own. He hardly has to focus at all to keep him down.

On top of Cloud like this, he takes a moment to admire the way his hair drapes across them, silver strands brushing across Cloud’s chest and arms, as if they were holding him down, too. Cloud squints in frustration, not moving at all underneath him.

Sephiroth takes the cuffs in his other hand and fastens them to Cloud’s wrists. Cloud fights him the whole way, trying to escape his hold as he switches his grip, and it’s so much more satisfying this way. Cloud’s forearms are an angry red from where he’d gripped them earlier, soon to turn into dark blue-purple bruises. 

He shifts his thighs—Cloud tries to kick at him again—and shoves Cloud’s legs apart as far as he can. Cloud gasps as pain shoots through his thighs, and again as Sephiroth leans down to bite at them. He leaves a lovely trail of bruises, Cloud still desperately struggling all the while. 

“You should savor these,” he says, pressing his fingers harshly into the fresh marks. Cloud hisses in pain and thrashes against him. “They’ll fade too fast with the mako.”

“Is that—ah!—sir, is that—”

“I think you can figure the rest out yourself.” He kneels on top of him, digging right into the bruises, and uses his now free hands to push his pants down just past his dick. He’s already partially hard, stroking himself a few times to let Cloud’s anticipation build. Those bright, bright blue eyes would soon be stained with green, wouldn’t they?

With his other hand, he takes hold of the base of the plug and pulls roughly, causing Cloud to make an abrupt, strangled noise, violently flinching. He places it to the side for now—Cloud can clean it later—and thrusts two gloved fingers in his hole. Cloud tenses automatically, moaning. He pushes in a bit more, spreading the lube already in his ass, drawing it out to hear Cloud’s little pathetic noises, then pulls out and discards his gloves.

He grabs Cloud’s thighs again, making sure to press into the bruises (another sweet, high-pitched moan), and pushes them up, nearly folding him in half. He lets go briefly to position himself, pushing just the head of his dick past the rim. Cloud forgets to fight him during that, but he supposes he’ll let this one instance slide. 

He thrusts in all the way at once. Cloud screams, jerking violently in his restraints. The point of the plug is to open him just enough that it isn’t entirely painful, but definitely not enough to be entirely pleasurable, either. For Cloud, at least. Sephiroth basks in his steady stream of moans every time he thrusts back in, his entire body shaking as Sephiroth holds onto his legs.

Through everything, Cloud’s dick is still hard against his stomach, small and pathetic and adorable. He lets go of Cloud’s left leg to wrap his hand around it—his hand practically engulfs his whole cock. He doesn’t bother moving, just lets his thrusts slide Cloud back and forth, fucking his hand. Cloud’s noises grow more and more desperate, crying out one final time as he spills all over Sephiroth’s fingers, ass clenching around his dick instinctively. 

He lets out a soft groan himself, pushing in all the way before coming inside, riding out the waves of pleasure and savoring Cloud’s delicious, utterly fucked out expression. He moves to pull out, but Cloud whines in protest. He stills and smiles.

“So?”

“I…I’m not really sure, sir.”

“Mmm. That’s okay. Once you’re stronger, I’ll just push you harder. I wonder how many times you’ll be able to come in a row.”

Cloud clenches around him. Cute.

It really is a shame. He’ll grow taller, fill out more, be a little less pliant. Probably be strong enough to break most restraints. His increased stamina might make up for it, though.

For now, his pet is content to lie quietly on his back, still warming Sephiroth’s cock, eyelids heavy with exhaustion. 


	4. running out of time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Planet lets him travel back in time to stop Sephiroth. Sephiroth gets there first.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there’s like, the barest hint of a plot here. don’t mind the details too much :)
> 
> **content in this chapter:** underage (cc cloud), non-con voyeurism, power imbalance/manipulation, blindfolds

He’s gone back, at the Planet’s request. He’s supposed to stop Sephiroth before anything can ever happen. He expects to be brought back outside of Midgar, or even to Nibelheim, but instead he opens his eyes to a hallway of the Shinra building.

...Well, that was inconvenient. If anyone saw him, he’d probably be thrown out or arrested. His best bet was to find a way to escape, then figure out what year it was and work from there.

He’s trying to figure out which floor he’s on when he hears footsteps and quickly ducks behind a corner.

“Seph!”

_ Seph? _

“Cloud,” a voice that is distinctly Sephiroth-like replies. 

_ What the fuck. _

He needs to get out,  _ now,  _ but he looks back anyways—and gods, it really is his younger self speaking to Sephiroth. His eyes are so bright, so full of innocent excitement Cloud hasn’t felt in years. Something in his chest aches.

This...his own memory of this time was in bits and pieces. But...this?  _ Seph? _ He hardly knew Sephiroth before Nibelheim...

He’s so busy trying to process why his younger self would be so familiar with Sephiroth that he doesn’t realize how physically  _ close  _ they are—until Sephiroth tilts his head down and kisses him.

“No,” Cloud gasps, immediately clapping a hand to his mouth.  _ Shit.  _ There’s no way Sephiroth’s enhanced hearing wouldn’t have caught that.

“Is someone there?” Sephiroth withdraws and looks around, and Cloud freezes, back against the wall. “Cloud, go on ahead. I’ll be there in a bit,” Sephiroth says, in a low whisper Cloud can barely make out with his own enhanced hearing. He listens to the footsteps fade away, and braces himself for a fight. 

“I know you’re there, Cloud. It’s about time you caught up to me.”

…Of course Sephiroth knew. He sighs and turns the corner, ready to draw his sword. “What did you—”

“The same thing you did. Isn’t it only fair?” Sephiroth tilts his head to the side, otherwise not summoning his sword or advancing on him. “You’re quite late, though.”

“You—you’re manipulating me—him.” Cloud’s hands clench into fists. “You’re taking advantage of—”

“I’m simply using everything at my disposal to defeat you.” There’s no remorse at all on his face, and Cloud debates whether or not killing him right now would cause too much commotion.

“...Where’s  _ your  _ younger self, then?”

“ _ I _ am myself. An advantage I have in moving across time.” 

He draws the Fusion Sword. There’s no point in trying to strategize using what knowledge he has when Sephiroth has the same, anyways. They’ll end it here and now, again and again and again, until one of them falls permanently. Masamune appears in Sephiroth’s hand. It’s disturbingly familiar, almost comforting in its assuredness. Across the planet, across time itself, they—

“Wait!”

Cloud blinks, freezing mid-swing. Sephiroth’s blade vanishes.

“Don’t...don’t kill each other. Please.” His younger self holds his hands up, begging. “I—I heard what you said, and I don’t understand all of it, but please don’t...don’t fight.”

He looks himself in the eye. “You don’t know what he’s capable of. He’s going to destroy everything.”

Sephiroth laughs as if that’s the most ridiculous thing he’s ever heard. “And why would I do that?”

“You heard him say it, right? He’s manipulating you. You have to trust me. The future...it’s completely ruined by Sephiroth.” Even as he says it, a horrible feeling settles into his gut. Like he’s already lost, despite there not being a single scratch on him.

“Seph…?”

Sephiroth smiles, obviously pleased he isn’t listening to Cloud. “Cloud, remember when I told you about the alternate timelines? You understand.”

“I…” His younger self looks back and forth between them, unsure. “You said you were going to defeat him.”

“I am. He believes I’m dangerous, so I have no choice but to—”

He cuts in, “Cloud, please. Just run away, now, get as far away as possible from here as you can.”

“I…”

“Cloud,” Sephiroth says, and nothing else.

He’s tired of this. He lunges at Sephiroth. 

Sephiroth, predictably, dodges easily. A low ache blooms in his stomach. 

He looks down. His younger self, hands shaking as they grip the hilt of Masamune, sinking the blade deep into him, a determined expression on his face. 

It’s the last thing he sees before his vision goes dark.

* * *

He wakes up slowly, not quite realizing where he is or how he ended up there. The ground is soft underneath him, cushioning him with some sort of padding. 

Wait, no. There’s solidness under his feet. He’s standing upright against the wall. He blinks.

Or he doesn’t. 

He tries to move his arm. His other arm. His legs. Tries to take a deep breath.

Nothing. He is completely immobile against the wall of what must have been one of the padded training rooms in the building. In the very bottom corner of his vision, he can see blood staining his torso from where the blade had gone through. The bleeding there had stopped as well.

The sensation—or rather the lack of any—of a Stop spell is familiar, but they were only powerful enough to last a few seconds, and usually he wasn’t aware of what was happening when he  _ was  _ stopped. 

The door to the room opens. 

“Seph?” The voice is nervous, questioning.

“Don’t worry. I’ll guide you.” 

His younger self is blindfolded, a black cloth shielding his vision from landing on Cloud. His hand rests in Sephiroth’s, trusting him to lead. 

He wants to,  _ needs  _ to move, to save his other self, the planet. He can’t even  _ blink. _

Sephiroth doesn’t even spare a glance in his direction. “Lay down here,” he says, stopping in the center of the room, where they’re both in full view. Cloud does, settling back onto the padded floor cautiously. Sephiroth straddles him, moving to undo the straps of Cloud’s uniform and pushing his shirt up to expose his chest, kissing his way up his torso. His hands settle on Cloud’s hips, holding him still as he makes soft, pleased noises and squirms against the touch. 

He can’t look away. He can’t close his eyes. Even if he could, his own moans would echo in his ears. Why? Why was he sent here? Sephiroth must have somehow pulled him here on purpose, if only just to hurt him…

“You did so well,” Sephiroth whispers, tracing back down his body to tease at the waistband of his pants, touching everywhere but where he needs it. “You did everything how I asked you to.” The way his other self shudders at that sends a twin, nonexistent shiver through his own body. That kind of elation—mindless, endless bliss that consumes his mind and memories—he remembers it all too clearly. But he wasn’t supposed to have those cells yet....Sephiroth had manipulated his hero worship so perfectly he didn’t need them. 

Cloud gasps in surprise as Sephiroth finally takes his dick in hand after pushing his pants down just enough, flinching. Sephiroth simply holds him down by the hip with his other hand, leans down, and licks gently at the tip.

“Ah, Seph,” he cries, nails digging into his palms. He’s trying his best to hold still, so sensitive as Sephiroth licks a line from base to tip, over the slit, whines when Sephiroth takes the head in his mouth fully and then moves down, down, down. He pulls off for a moment, spit trailing from his lips, and guides Cloud’s hands into his hair.

He’s grateful for the way Sephiroth’s hair forms a curtain over his other self’s body, so that he only catches glimpses of the way he continues to swallow him whole, effortlessly driving those keening, high-pitched sounds to spill from his mouth. He doesn’t know how much time passes until Cloud cries out,  _ Seph,  _ one final time and relaxes against the floor, hands falling to his sides.

Sephiroth lingers, taking everything he has to give, licking his lips and swirling his tongue over the tip. “Too much,” Cloud whines. Sephiroth finally moves away to give him a kiss, surely tasting of himself. Cloud returns it just as enthusiastically, spread utterly vulnerable and helpless under him, basking in the aftermath of pleasure, oblivious to the unwilling eyes settling across his form. 

When they part, Sephiroth says, “I’m going to step away for a moment. Don’t move.”

“Okay,” Cloud agrees, breathy and exhausted and obedient.

Sephiroth gets up and finally deigns to acknowledge him, frozen against the wall. He meets his eyes and smiles.

Every muscle in his body releases at once, and he tips forward, unable to control himself, panting as he somehow starts to breathe, blink, move again. Delayed sensation after sensation assaults him as he barely manages to catch himself on the floor with his hands, shivering in horror and disgust and worst of all, arousal between his thighs. 

“You are too weak to save anyone. Not even yourself,” Sephiroth says, voice low enough for only him to hear.

He watches helplessly as Sephiroth walks away, scoops his other self up in his arms, and exits the room. 


	5. failed escape // rescue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cloud never makes it to Midgar. There’s still one other use for a failed experiment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **content in this chapter:** noncon (mob/cloud), heavy self-deprecating thoughts
> 
> this one is completely whump. please be careful!

He doesn’t make it very far. 

His limbs are heavy, his hair is still matted with blood, and he’s moving even slower with Zack’s sword weighing him down. He refuses to abandon it, though. The proof...proof that he existed…

He’s so, so tired. He hears the unmistakable noise of a helicopter descending and doesn’t even bother looking. If he stops moving now he might never move again, so he keeps putting one foot in front of the other, gaze fixed on the city in the distance that doesn’t seem to get any larger. 

The whirring noises get louder. Wind whips through his hair. 

At some point, pain shoots through his shoulder, and his vision goes dark.

* * *

“...still viable for something?”

“It’s an anomaly that he recovered at all.”

Everything’s...blurry. There are people talking, but their voices are too muffled for him to make out. 

He tries to move. His arms and legs are bound in place, strapped to whatever he’s lying on. 

“Just leave him for now. He’s too weak to do anything.”

Footsteps move away from him.

His vision clears a little, and horrifying realization crashes over him.

_ No, no, he can’t be back in the labs, no, not after Zack gave his life to save him.  _

Tears spring to his eyes. He knows it’s futile, but he struggles violently in his bindings anyways. He wants to scream, but he doesn’t want to draw attention to himself.

He’s crying, muffled sobs shaking out of his chest, and somewhere along the way he realizes he’s completely naked, another sharp shuddering gasp escaping from his mouth. It’s too loud in his ears and for a moment he thinks he hears footsteps coming back—he holds still for a minute, but nothing happens.

Selfishly, he wishes they had just killed him. Better than this. Better than having to live like this again, without even Zack to keep him going. 

Zack should have left him and ran. Now they had both been dealt worse fates.

He lies there, out of tears, utterly drained, empty of feeling. 

Maybe...maybe they’ll deem him useless and throw him out. Or just kill him already. 

The silence stretches on. 

He’s always been too weak to protect anyone. Only able to watch helplessly as the people he loved got hurt and died right in front of him. 

He shouldn’t be the one alive right now.

He shouldn’t be the one alive.

He shouldn’t be alive.

He shouldn’t—

Footsteps. 

_ no no please don’t hurt him please _

“You poor thing.”

His breath quickens, heart beating out of his chest, squirming against the table, no no no no no don’t 

“You caused us so much trouble, but you weren’t even worth recovering, were you?”

Everything is hazy and he can’t see in front of him and he hears the words but doesn’t process them at all and he can’t move can’t do anything at all 

“Though you do still have one use.” 

There’s…a touch. At his ass. Pressing against his hole.

He screams.

“Shut up.” 

Pain pricks at his arm, and his sounds abruptly cut off. He thrashes, but he doesn’t move at all. Panic grips every part of him, though he can’t move can’t scream can’t, his heart is so loud in his ears, his breathing too short, he feels like he might explode right then, no no no no please

Something slick touches the rim of his hole, then enters, pressing against his walls and moving deeper, deeper, violating him, destroying him from the inside, sending a shock of disgusting horrible pleasure down his spine as it brushes past the right spot, it moves apart spreading him preparing him for something else not out of kindness but out of convenience so he doesn’t bleed everywhere. That’s what they say to him as it's removed and for a moment he’s blissfully empty that it might be over but the something worse is pushing into him and it hurts so so bad even if he’s not bleeding it’s too much. It’s too big to go inside him please he’s so so full it hurts but no one cares, he can’t even cry for help not that he deserves to be saved.

Over and over and over he’s ruined, his body responds with betraying arousal anyways, his dick hard against his stomach despite how much he wants to vomit, and they say, he must want it loves being used like this because why else is his cock leaking? This is the only use he has left, and he agrees because he failed everyone he loved, at least this way he can’t fail anyone, just lay there and take it. 

Eventually the movement slows and something splashes inside him and he’s empty for real this time, cold and alone and empty and used. It’s over and he hopes he falls unconscious and never wakes up again.

Sometimes it happens. Sometimes it doesn’t. Sometimes he’s awake. Sometimes he’s not. Is he dreaming the same thing over and over, or is it just happening over and over? It doesn’t matter. The less he knows, feels, the better. He stops trying to scream. He stops trying to move. It’s faster and easier that way. 

A day could have passed. A week. A month. A year. He doesn’t know. All he knows is that one day something different happened. 

He hears a scream that’s not his. He opens his mouth and closes it to make sure. Oh, there’s another one. And another. And footsteps.

_ Please, just end it. _

A curtain of silver falls over his vision. He’s long since lost the ability to see much else besides large, blurry shapes. 

He feels...different. Underneath him is soft, warm. Oh, he’s being lifted up, he thinks. By the silver. 

Quick, hurried footsteps. Yelling. Then an odd, squishy sound. Something’s red.

Silver, silver. It’s so soft. His limbs are free, but he’s forgotten how to move them.

He’s so tired. Maybe next time when he wakes up the silver will still be there. He really hopes so. 


	6. "get it out" // "stop, please"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That’s not what Masamune is supposed to be used for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **content in this chapter:** noncon/dubcon puppet cloud, object insertion, mild praise kink
> 
> personally i think the fandom needs more swordfucking content

“Oh, Cloud,” Sephiroth says, his chest pressed to Cloud’s back. His arms cage him in, Cloud practically sitting in his lap. “Did you think you really deserved my cock?”

“Please,” he cries, not knowing what he’s even asking for, “please.” 

Sephiroth spreads his hole open with his fingers, exposed and slick with spit. Cloud shivers and whines, clenching his eyes shut.

Something...solid presses against his rim, something definitely  _ wrong. _ His eyes shoot open and  _ Sephiroth is pressing the hilt of Masamune into him. _

He screams, wails, as it pushes further, it can’t fit when he’s barely been stretched, it  _ burns _ against his walls as the leather chafes on his skin. His ass clenches instinctively to stop it from sliding any further but Sephiroth is relentless, angling it and thrusting it until it’s almost fully inside him, filling him up as tears roll down his cheeks. It fucking  _ hurts, _ like it might split him in half, burns more than if Sephiroth had stabbed him through a thousand times, and yet all he can do is sit there and take it.

“Please,” he gasps, “please, take it out, please, I’ll do anything—”

“You will?” Sephiroth’s hand rests at the top of the hilt, pressed up against his hole to keep it in. “Very well.”

The hilt is removed so abruptly that Cloud’s scream shatters partway, his voice cracking as the only thing he can register is the pain throbbing inside him, consuming him whole. His throat is too dry—his next cries come out as choked, high-pitched mewls even though there’s nothing there anymore.

Sephiroth traces his rim slowly, gently, kisses him on the cheek, licking at his tears. For a while, he says nothing, seemingly letting Cloud recover. The sword has vanished from his hands, the only evidence of it the terrible pain inside him. His breathing evens out as Sephiroth continues to soothe him, moving to kiss at his neck. 

Sephiroth  _ bites,  _ and his eyes slip closed. He moans quietly.

He screams.

The hilt is thrust in again, just as worse or even more as it inflames the same spots, twisting and penetrating as deep as it can. His voice is hoarse, dying—Sephiroth pushes all the way in then pulls back, then again, and again. Nothing else exists but the absolute pain shuddering through him, relentlessly stabbing over and over to kill him. His wails echo back at him, mocking his helplessness.

“Beg for it,” Sephiroth says into his ear, not slowing down at all. 

“Pl–please, please, st–stop, please, it  _ hurts,  _ please, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, please—”

“You can do better than that.”

“Sir,  _ master,  _ please, ah, I’ll be good, I don’t deserve to be fucked by your cock, I’m sorry—” Sephiroth jerks the hilt out abruptly, letting it dissolve into nothing. He wails and wails, a fresh wave of tears leaking from his eyes. 

Sephiroth coos at him, cradling him in his arms and brushing away his tears. “Beautiful pet, you took it so well.” 

Cloud keens at the praise, clashing with the horrible throbbing inside him. 

“You did such a good job staying still.” Sephiroth kisses the bite from earlier, sliding his tongue against it. Cloud shivers at the prickle of pain, the soft wet press against his skin. 

“C-cure,” he manages to say. “Hurts—”

“Shhh, I know. I have a better idea.”

The  _ click  _ of something opening—a slick finger enters him and he whimpers. It’s still so sensitive and raw, but the coldness of the potion in contrast to his skin helps to soothe it. Sephiroth coats his walls with it methodically, easing the pain, making sure it’s spread properly. He moans at the touch—such sweet relief after everything—and despite himself his cock is curving up against his stomach.

Cloud whines at the loss when Sephiroth withdraws his fingers, the cool touch no longer distracting him. “Just a moment,” Sephiroth assures him, amused. He pours the potion over his other hand and strokes Cloud, the liquid sliding easily in his palm. 

Cloud moans embarrassingly loudly as Sephiroth thrusts his fingers back in and curls them, pressing into his prostate. The slide of the hand against his dick coupled with the fingers fucking into him overwhelms his senses, assaults every part of him with mind-numbing pleasure. He can’t take it—so fucking sensitive inside, bliss overtaking pain—he wants more,  _ more, _ though he’s too gone to beg for it beyond his stream of whines and mewls, he’ll take everything Sephiroth has to give him forever and ever if it means he can feel like this—

He comes much too quickly, spurting weakly into Sephiroth’s hand once, twice. He’s crying again, hadn’t even noticed when he’d started. 

“Your reward for being good.” Sephiroth lifts his hand to Cloud’s mouth. He licks it clean, tasting faintly of potion. He licks his lips, too, and presses a kiss to Sephiroth’s palm.

“Thank you, sir,” he breathes. “I–I’m sorry for—for being bad, before—”

“Shhh. You’ve learned now. Rest.” Sephiroth praises him, whispers how well he did. It makes him feel tingly at the edges. It makes him want more.

“Sir...you—”

“Do you deserve to touch me yet?”

“...No, sir.”

Sephiroth hums, pressing a kiss to his pulse. “You’re so eager. We’ll work up to it.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Sephiroth always knows exactly what to give him, what he deserves, what he  _ needs.  _ Even if it hurts, especially if it hurts. Nothing else matters but that truth.

He still wants it—wants Sephiroth inside of him, filling him up and claiming him, but he needs to earn it. It’ll be all the sweeter when he finally does. 

Cloud closes his eyes, relaxing against Sephiroth’s chest as he strokes his hair soothingly. He drifts off that way, lulled to sleep by Sephiroth's touch.


	7. carrying // enemy turned caretaker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sephiroth sighs. “What do you want, Cloud?”
> 
> “Just…give me some fucking answers. Like why the hell you keep showing up and saving my life.”
> 
> “I did not wish to see you dead,” Sephiroth answers, like that cleared anything up. He kind of wanted to punch that stupid beautiful man in the face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one is considerably longer and has more plot than smut, i apologize if it ends up being confusing lol. modern au, but also not really. 
> 
> **content in this chapter:** attempted sexual assault (mob/cloud), attempted suicide (in order for cloud to see sephiroth), very brief implied/referenced physical abuse (not sefikura), actual non-smut related sfkr angst, brief alcohol mention

There’s always been something  _ wrong _ with him.

Even when he was a child the other kids seemed to know, outcasting him at school because kids were cruel. And that was  _ before _ the headaches started. 

It began when he was nine, after the accident. He could envision it so clearly: the moonlight shining on the water, the cliff railing him and Tifa had been sitting on. The paint peeled beneath their fingers. Her mom was up in the sky, she said. It was dangerous for them to be out alone at night and even more dangerous for them to sit on the railing like that, so that’s why they were there. 

Her tiny fingers slipped through his hand when he tried to catch her, and he fell, too. 

It was far enough to kill on impact, but for some reason, it didn't. They both woke up in the hospital, having been found unconscious on the shore. They kept saying it was a miracle either of them were alive, and that they hadn’t sustained any permanent injuries. It was impossible. He was blamed, of course, for being out with her, for endangering her. 

The thing is, he never remembered hitting the water. He remembered the sensation of falling—weightless and terrified—but nothing else. And when he tried to remember, his head would start to ache. 

He kept trying. He zoned out at school and tried hard enough that he ended up passing out and waking up in the nurse’s office. He didn't bother telling her what had  _ really _ happened, no one ever believed he’d actually fallen off and lived. 

He was sixteen when his mother died in a car crash. Miraculously, he survived. Not even a scrape. Again, it was impossible. Again, he couldn't remember it, and it hurt too much when he tried.

He spent weeks not doing anything. They brought him to his uncle’s, who lived alone and told him he was stealing his money. He got really good at moving around quietly and dodging punches. He stopped going to school. He ran. He stole and broke into trash cans and slept on the streets, and no one ever came after him. 

He learned from Tifa that he was eighteen when she’d found him and dragged him to her apartment because she  _ wasn’t just going to leave a friend like that, okay?  _ It was kind of hypocritical of her when she had never spoken up for him back then, like she was trying to clear her own conscience. It stopped mattering to him when he stepped into her shower and felt the warm water cascading down his back for the first time in forever, washing years of dirt and grime and pain away. He leaned heavily against the wall and imagined a world where he had died when he was supposed to, hitting the water like that. 

They argued for a long time, that he couldn’t just live here out of the goodness of her own heart. She promised she would help him get a job at the bar she worked at, where the owner owed her a favor. 

That’s how he lived, now. He took up more of her shifts when she needed to focus on school. He got really good at cooking, and he perfected his customer service persona. He picked up a day job at the coffee shop around the corner because he couldn't stand being idle. Things were...fine. The more time he spent on work, the less time he had to think, and the less his head hurt. 

It’s a regular night at the bar, just after closing. The owner had practically turned the business over to Tifa, even though it wasn't supposed to be her full time job. She had shrugged it off and taken the responsibility anyways.

Cloud glances at his phone. “Shouldn't you head back? You have an exam tomorrow, right?”

“Shit!” She sets down the glass she’s cleaning and checks her own phone. “Are you gonna be okay closing up?”

“Yeah, go ahead.” 

She rushes out, grabbing her bag and heading out the back door. It’s too eerily quiet without her, the dim lights making him feel like something might jump out at him, but he had been the last one to leave before. Still unnerved him every time, though. 

The back door leads into a dark alley, barely lit by the streetlamp down on one side. He heads that way.

Footsteps behind him. Probably just...literally anyone else, who’s going the same direction. But…the other side of the alley was a dead end.

He speeds up a bit. The footsteps speed up too. He’s five, four paces away from the sidewalk. He breaks out into a run.

He screams when someone grabs his arm, pinning him against the wall. His back collides against the bricks with a concerning  _ crack,  _ his eyes scrunched in pain. Flailing, kicking out at his assailant violently—a knee presses into his stomach and he struggles for breath, heaving and disoriented—he can’t make out anything about the person in the darkness. 

Hands grasp at his neck, his head—it slams back into the bricks and everything is spinning, spinning. Wet with blood, still trying to struggle, but his movements grow weaker and weaker. He slumps over, mostly supported by the hand pinning his wrists above him. 

His assailant reaches down to pat his pockets to take his wallet—wait, no, don’t fucking—

He’s too lightheaded to make much of a scream, not that anyone would have heard him at this time of night. The hands grip his ass, slide into his pants, and he wants to  _ vomit.  _ It’s not like he can’t protect himself, Tifa had taught him a few things—but right now he’s bleeding out slowly from the back of his head, helpless in the back of a dark alley, with no one coming to help anytime soon. 

The touch presses against his dick, and he spits in their face. The guy responds by elbowing him in the stomach and muttering, “Useless bitch. I’ve seen you whoring yourself around that bar.” 

He doesn’t need to deign that with a response. He’s too out of breath anyways. 

“Just lay back and take it like you’re used to, huh?”

He clenches his eyes shut. He’s used to...looks, uncomfortable flirting. Once, Tifa had thrown out someone who was drunk enough to try touching him. Usually he just filtered it out, smiled politely, and got the fuck out of there. That was...normal.

A sickening  _ crunch _ echoes through the alley. Cloud blinks. His assailant falls to the side, unconscious, without Cloud moving a muscle.

His vision blurs harder. Someone lifts him up, carrying him sideways. Something soft cradles his head.

Everything swims. His head hurts like he had been thinking too much of his mother again.

* * *

“...Cloud? Are you awake?”

He squints at the brightness assaulting his eyes and makes a questioning noise. Did he nod off on the couch again? That didn’t sound like Tifa. He tries to roll over and is caught by—something.

“Ah, don’t move,” a voice says. “Your condition still isn’t very stable.” 

He is lying on a hospital bed, a needle stuck in his arm, and it all rushes back to him at once.

The person sitting in the chair next to his bed is— _ beautiful. _ Cloud’s half-awake and convinced he’s dead. The silver hair shines silky even in the harsh hospital light, framing his form with an otherworldly aura. He...isn’t wearing a shirt. Just black pants. Cloud is staring. And staring. His eyes are a bright green, pupils slit like a cat’s. 

“Who...are you?”

“I cannot answer that.” His voice smoothes over Cloud’s ears, melting his insides. “I am here to watch over you until you are discharged.”

“You don’t look real,” he sighs. His head injury, probably. Though why his brain was conjuring  _ this _ up he had no idea. “Shit, I need to contact Tifa.”

“I have already notified her of your situation. She will pick you up when you are clear to leave.” 

“How did you…?”

“I sent her a message from your phone.”

“You’re not a doctor.”

At that, the man gets up. His expression stays the same, and he doesn’t acknowledge Cloud, either. Well, it was pretty obvious he wasn’t, from how he’s dressed and all. Opening the door, he says, “I will return later,” and disappears through it.

Cloud blinks. In the edge of his vision, the door had suddenly blurred incredibly bright when the man left. 

He sighs and turns his gaze back to the ceiling. Whatever. Maybe his brain had decided to give him an imaginary friend.

* * *

Gods, he’s drunk.

Not drunk enough, because apparently he can still think shit like that. Tifa insisted on it, as a celebration of his recovery, and once again he fell for the soft buzzing in his head, the burn down his throat. It’s all good in the moment when he’s sitting down at a dimly lit counter with nothing on his mind except whatever’s two feet in front of him. Tifa smiles at him, but even with his slowness he can see it's strained.

“What’s wrong?”

“Hmm? Nothing’s wrong. I’m just glad you’re safe.”

“Bullshit. Something’s bothering you.”

She sighs and sets down her glass, filled with red-orange liquid. “It’s stupid. It’s fine.”

“Try me.”

“Look, I know it’s like, not really how it is, but I’m sorry. I’m sorry for leaving you alone. I shouldn’t have left. I wasn’t thinking about how late it was. If you wanna stop working here—”

“I don’t,” he says, putting his glass down too, “It’s not your fault I can’t fight.”

“Cloud—”

“It’s just what happened.”

She sighs and shakes her head. “If I’m not blaming myself, then you aren’t blaming yourself either. Got it?”

“...Fine.”

She lifts her glass to him, and he clinks his own against it. 

* * *

It’s not like he was  _ trying _ to get hurt. But maybe he deserved it. 

In that split second, when he realizes he’s going to die, he finds that he really doesn’t care.

Instead, he finds himself on the ground, concrete digging into his back, staring up at that half-naked, silver-haired man.

“It’s you,” Cloud murmurs. Maybe he’s dreaming.

“You must be more careful.” 

“Yeah, well.” Cloud shrugs against the ground. There’s probably something wrong with him for feeling nothing despite almost being roadkill. 

“I will accompany you back home.” The man picks him up from the ground easily, and begins to head in the direction of the apartment.

“Getting some deja vu here,” Cloud says, staring up at his savior. “How do you even know where I live?”

No answer. Doesn’t even look back at Cloud. 

Oh, well. He spends the time studying the guy’s appearance, albeit at a weird angle. He’s really pretty, just as much as when Cloud had first seen him in the hospital. The silky hair keeps brushing against him and he almost dozes off. 

A hand pats his leg. He flinches.

“I apologize,” the man says. “Will you hand me your keys?” 

“Yeah, sure.” He digs in his pocket and holds them out, only half-processing anything. Ha. He didn’t know he had problems like that. It’s easy enough to pretend he’s not shaken and file that for later.

The door somehow gets unlocked without him being dropped on the floor. The guy sets him down on the couch and turns to leave.

“Wait,” Cloud says. He has questions, but mostly he just can’t handle being by himself right now.

“I have fulfilled my duty. I cannot stay.”

“Who are you?”

The man keeps walking to the door. Cloud leaps up, swaying a little, and runs in front of him. “At least tell me your name. You keep saving me.”

“Like I said, that is my duty.”

“Gods,” he says under his breath, frustrated, “What the  _ fuck  _ are you? A hallucination? A sick joke? Come on.” He reaches out to touch, just to confirm—solid, firm muscle under his fingertips. The man doesn't even react.

Huh. 

He keeps—touching. It’s nice. Is this how it feels to be on the other end? Free to look, to touch. He doesn't bother looking for the man’s expression. It’s probably carefully blank. 

He digs his nails into his hips, just for fun. No reaction.

“You’re a dream, right? I guess my own brain would know what I like.”

Grasping at his hips, Cloud licks experimentally, just across his ribs. It’s not that fun when he doesn't respond, but whatever. He drags his tongue up and across a nipple, leaning closer to suck gently at it, and then the other. 

He wants to kiss. Empty green slit eyes stare back at him. 

“Your name. What is it?”

“I…was once Sephiroth.”

“Sephiroth,” he echoes, rolling it over in his mouth. “Seph…” 

It feels familiar, for some reason.

“Kiss me,” he says. Surprisingly, Sephiroth does.

It’s hot and warm and messy and he chases it. He’s gone out on some occasions when he  _ really _ needed to blow off some steam, but there wasn’t any kissing. He needs this right now. 

Sephiroth starts to take the initiative and it just feels so right. He picks Cloud up, hiking his thighs up and turning them around so Cloud’s back is braced against the wall. Fuck, he wants it. Wants Sephiroth to pound him into the wall until his thighs give out and his back aches.

Sephiroth somehow manages to undress both himself and Cloud while still carrying him with one arm. His dick is pretty much already hard by the time Sephiroth grips his thighs again.

“Fuck,” he groans as Sephiroth slides his cock against his. When he looks down Sephiroth is just so much  _ bigger _ that it sends another shuddering jolt of arousal through him. He reaches to wrap a hand around them, barely even getting his fingers around. He strokes at the same time Sephiroth moves, fucking into his hand, smearing their precome together into an obscene slick sound. He wants more—wants Sephiroth inside him—his eyes clench shut. He needs to be—ah, needs to be filled—

He comes all over his hand, whimpering as Sephiroth continues fucking against him anyways. His hand drops to the side, and Sephiroth positions him to sort of fuck his thighs—rubbing against his oversensitive cock and making him cry out, eyes watering. It’s too much and he can’t get hard again but his dick twitches as Sephiroth finishes, coming all over his stomach and thighs. He’s so utterly  _ used _ like that, and somehow he still wants more. 

“Sephiroth,” he breathes.

Sephiroth says nothing. He carries him like that to his bedroom, setting him gently onto the bed.

“Stay,” Cloud pleads. 

Sephiroth turns his back on him, only to return with a towel. He leans over him, one hand gripping his hip, the other wiping him clean. 

Cloud shivers when the fabric ghosts across his cock. It’s a waste, really. Sephiroth could have used his tongue.

He relaxes against the sheets, soft and pliant. He hears the sound of water running. Sephiroth comes back and crawls into bed with him.

“I know you,” he says.

“Do you?”

“You were...we were…” He shakes his head. “Can’t remember.”

Sephiroth pulls him close, and something soft, almost ticklish brushes across his skin.

“You have a wing.”

It curls around him protectively, warm and comfortable on his back. He doesn’t really care about the  _ who _ and  _ why _ anymore. He just wants Sephiroth. 

He wakes up alone. A single black feather sits next to his pillow.

* * *

He gets worse.

He needs to  _ do something,  _ mind restless in the little downtime he has. He jerks off in the shower to the thought of Sephiroth blowing him, silver hair splayed over his thighs. Sephiroth would take it—all of him, wet heat surrounding him, pulling back to lick at the tip before diving back down. Cloud’s breath gets shorter, stifling a moan by biting his lip. Sephiroth takes him down to the base again and he comes, crying out softly as Sephiroth swallows around him.

The come on his hands washes down the drain.

He doesn’t remember how long it’s been—just knows that Sephiroth doesn’t come back. He’s convinced that he won’t show up at all unless Cloud’s in danger. So, the logical conclusion would be to put himself in it.

Tifa’s staying over at a friend’s tonight. He has the apartment to himself.

Could he just…walk into the street again? He’d have to stand there waiting for a car to pass, though. 

He walks into the kitchen and grabs the largest knife they own. It’s the one he usually chops vegetables with. He’s only accidentally cut himself once.

Right. If he just plunges it into his chest. This isn’t very efficient. His hands are shaking as he turns the tip towards himself, his heart beating too loud in his ears. He can’t stop imagining blood, blood, blood. It wouldn’t be a nice thing to come home to, blood all over your kitchen floor. 

He grips the handle with both hands, squeezing it between his fingers, and wills himself to bring his arms down, speeding up—

The knife is knocked promptly out of his hands, clattering across the floor and sliding away from him. 

He stands in front of the sink, breathing hard, feeling the urge to vomit, head spinning. 

“What do you think you’re  _ doing?”  _ Sephiroth grabs his shoulder and spins him around. It’s the most emotion he’s shown so far, eyes ablaze with anger. 

“Wanted to—wanted to see you—”

“You cannot  _ do that. _ I understand you want to see me, but I have—”

“Shut up. That’s bullshit and you know it. I don’t care if you’re real or not.”

“I am only supposed to protect you.”

“Then help me by fucking  _ staying. _ I can’t fucking focus on anything but you. I can’t even remember why.”

Sephiroth looks at him, pained. “I shouldn’t touch you.”

“I’m not fucking fragile! If this is about that time, he barely even touched me before you got there. It’s  _ you _ who’s touching me.”

“You do not know your own limits.”

“Are you saying you know me better than I know myself? I’m telling you I want this. I can’t live just constantly thinking of you.”

“You cannot—”

“Shut up!” He’s yelling loud enough to be heard by the neighbors. And then, in a much softer voice, he says, “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” Sure, when he was going about his normal day it was fine. But now and again his mind would always wander back to Sephiroth, like he had some sort of ridiculous addiction.

“I—” Sephiroth swallows, and if Cloud’s eyes weren’t blurred with tears he might have thought that Sephiroth looked close to crying, too. “I apologize. I did not mean to…activate those memories.”

“What memories?”

“It...is of no matter. I believed if I stayed away, you could live out your life in peace.” 

Cloud clenches his hands into fists. “You’re not making any sense.”

Sephiroth sighs. “What do you want, Cloud?”

“Just…give me some fucking answers. Like why the hell you keep showing up and saving my life.”

“I did not wish to see you dead,” Sephiroth answers, like that cleared anything up. He kind of wanted to punch that stupid beautiful man in the face.

“Are you real?”

“Yes, I am.”

“Do you have...some sort of magic?”

“It is best not to burden you with that information.”

“Then, will you fuck me?”

Sephiroth jerks back a fraction of a centimeter. “Are you sure you want that? It’s another effect of—”

“Shut up. I want you.” He knows glaring isn’t the biggest turn-on, but he’s frustrated, okay? He’s stressed and tired and on edge and his brain keeps telling him the solution is the weird human-maybe-an-angel, definitely magic guy who keeps stopping him from dying. 

Something seems to shift in Sephiroth at that. His eyes narrow, and he takes a step closer to Cloud. In a flash, Cloud is gathered in his arms again—not that he minds, of course—and carried to the bedroom.

Sephiroth lays him down on the bed gently, then climbs on top of him, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. Cloud closes his eyes at the sensation, shivering. The kisses trail along his neck while hands slide under his shirt, and he moves his arms and shifts up to help Sephiroth get it off of him. He continues, lips brushing against bare skin, and for some reason Cloud feels out of place—it’s almost  _ too  _ gentle, as if Sephiroth thought him a fragile doll.

“C’mon,” he groans, as Sephiroth reaches his lower stomach. “Get on with it.”

“Impatient, are we?” Sephiroth catches his gaze and smiles, savoring Cloud’s little gasps as he pushes down his pants and starts to kiss his thighs. It’s so close, too close to where he needs it, fuck—

Sephiroth cups him through his underwear, and he lets out an embarrassingly loud gasp. Holy shit, he wasn’t a teenager doing this for the first time, and yet the mere knowledge that it was Sephiroth touching him was enough for him to get hard. Sephiroth moves lower, and has the fucking audacity to mouth at him through the fabric, teasing him relentlessly. He can’t take it. He reaches to undress, but Sephiroth slaps his hands away—literally swats them with his own and goes back to stroking him. He  _ nuzzles _ Cloud’s dick. Cloud moans at the sight and fights the urge to push Sephiroth’s head down and smother him.

Sephiroth places his palm across and Cloud thrusts up into it, chasing that uncomfortably delicious friction. With his other hand, he traces Cloud’s nipple and pinches. Cloud gasps, the pain making him arch harder into his touch. Sephiroth is outright grinding against him, hand moving faster, shifting up so he can lick at his nipple instead. Fuck, he’s so close just from humping Sephiroth’s hand, he could come in his underwear, so  _ pathetic, so dirty, he was Sephiroth’s— _

Sephiroth dips his hand into his underwear without warning, finally exposing his cock. Immediately, he takes it in his mouth and swallows down. 

“Fuck,” he cries, the sudden skin contact shocking him, pleasure and arousal shuddering through his body. “Sephiroth—Seph—I’m, ah—” 

He comes, all into Sephiroth’s mouth, sharp and messy and wet, hips stuttering as white-hot pleasure rolls through him in waves. The slick wetness of Sephiroth’s mouth around him makes him oversensitive, whimpering. Sephiroth swallows around him, making sure Cloud watches the way his throat bobs, then surges up to kiss him.

His own taste invades his mouth, somewhere between sweet and repulsive. He lets Sephiroth explore with his tongue. Bone-deep exhaustion suddenly settles across him, as if Sephiroth had wrung all of his energy out by his dick. If his mouth was free he would have laughed to himself—he’s half-delirious in the afterglow, all fucked out even though he hasn’t even been fucked. It’s kind of ridiculous.

Sephiroth pulls away and kisses his forehead. “Sleep, Cloud. Rest well.” 

He wants to say something—ask something—but it all slips away, giving into his contentment. His eyelids are getting heavier and heavier. 

As he drifts off, he thinks he hears Sephiroth whisper, “I’m sorry.”

* * *

The night is so quiet, away from the city. There are so many more stars visible. The lull of the ocean, peaceful, sits below them.

The air itself feels cleaner, freer. He inhales deeply, trying to savor it.

“So, you remember what happened here, right?”

The question startles him out of his reverie. Tifa stands next to him, gripping the railing. The paint has almost chipped off entirely, flakes dotting her palms.

“Yeah. Sort of.”

“It’s a miracle we didn’t die.” She says it with a laugh, like it wasn’t a big deal. He guessed it wasn’t. They were both back and alive, after all.

He had gone back and forth on whether to accompany her home for a long time. He had no one to go back to—but, now that he was here, he was glad. The light of the stars, the smell of the ocean, it soothed him. 

“I guess we probably shouldn’t tempt fate a second time, though.” Tifa backs away from the edge, and he watches like he’s in a trance. “Call it a night?”

He blinks. “I think I’ll stay out here a bit longer.”

“Alright. Just don’t accidentally dive off, okay?” Her voice was light, but her eyes were scrunched in concern. “Seriously, though, I don’t think I can stand being around there any longer.” 

“Go ahead. I’ll be fine.”

“If you aren’t back soon, I’ll come looking for you.”

“Go rest.” 

She nods and waves at him. As soon as her back is turned, he pushes himself up on top of the railing. A lot easier to get on when you’re not a kid.

How long has it been? He doesn’t know anymore. It could have been last week, last month, last year. It doesn’t matter. All that really matters—is this. 

With a quick shove, he’s falling—falling into that beautiful, endless abyss.

And then—he remembers. 

The gentle hands that catch him are the very same. The beat of a single wing, the silver strands surrounding him. Every time, it has been him,  _ Sephiroth, _ from the very beginning. Those memories had been taken from him, replaced with a terrible ache, deep in his soul. Here, returned, as he completes the cycle, blessed to escape death, doomed to live. 

He feels as if he is dipping into another world entirely. 

A sudden wave of warmth shudders through him, and he understands.

“I wanted to protect you. But all I did was keep leading you to pain. I think—it’s impossible for me to stay away from you. And the more I stay, the more you remember the pain.

“I want to live alongside you. But as much power as I have, I cannot exist like you. I wish I did not know everything.”

Suspended in midair by such gentle hands. Hands that could wrap around the hilt of a sword buried in his chest. 

“I...apologize. I thought you could be happy, here. I’ll do it over again. I promise you, Cloud.”

He was placed gently on the shore. They said it was a miracle he wasn’t dead. They said it was a miracle he wasn’t

dead from mako poisoning

_ —Sephiroth’s puppet, that’s what he was, what he wanted— _

“Rest,” Sephiroth whispers, but he knows it won’t be for long.


	8. abandoned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He clenched his jaw and squeezed his thighs together. The movement itself caused his whole body to sway dangerously from its suspension above. 
> 
> The back of his mind whispered, _There is no one here. What are you holding back for?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for some reason, this one got written in past tense.
> 
>  **content in this chapter:** bondage, omorashi, wetting, implied noncon

It could have been minutes. Hours. Days. It was too dark to tell. Sometimes he thought he saw sunlight shining through the cracks in the wall, but he didn’t have a way to count. His hands were bound above him by a metal chain, and the circulation in his fingers had long since disappeared. His feet did not quite reach the floor. If he made a conscious effort, he could stand and take the strain off his wrists, but as his legs gave out, he slumped forward. He could feel the cold, cold, steel against his skin and not much else. 

It was achingly cold. He could not see, but he might as well have had frostbite at his fingertips. The only thing covering his body was a thin white robe, a soft swath of fabric that was once a tiny comfort and now seemed to stick to his skin. He had tried to move, just to keep a little warm, but had quickly grown exhausted. His weight rested entirely on his wrists, which he thought might freeze and crack at any moment. 

He kept his eyes closed most of the time, slipping in and out of sleep. The chill in his body continued to wake him up, over and over, and each time he remembered where he was, he simply shut his eyes again. 

It was getting harder and harder to ignore the growing pressure of his bladder. It was the only other sensation relayed to him, like a jolt to his senses each time he awakened. It took longer and longer to fall asleep. 

Hunger must have crawled at him, but he hardly felt it. His throat, dry and useless, did not produce a sound. How long did humans survive without water? How long did mako-enhanced SOLDIERs survive without water?

Water. It made him shiver. His mind tortuously conjured up the image of it, a nondescript plastic bottle, a glass, a river—

He clenched his jaw and squeezed his thighs together. The movement itself caused his whole body to sway dangerously from its suspension above. 

The back of his mind whispered,  _ There is no one here. What are you holding back for? _

He thought about it—the relief he would feel when he finally pissed all over himself, relieving that horrible pressure against his bladder, sighing in bliss— _ oh. _ The tiniest spurt of liquid escaped from the tip of his dick, running across his thigh, and he whimpered.

No, he couldn’t…

Reining the urge back in was so much harder. His thighs were shaking, his breath loud in his ears. The piss, a warm stream across his leg, cooled much too quickly. He couldn’t go back to fixating on his wrists. The dried liquid, the uncomfortable fullness of his bladder was everything that existed. 

Again, the voice said,  _ Let go.  _

Oh, if he had any moisture left in his body there would be tears welling up in his eyes. The thought of—of  _ soiling himself, of being a child,  _ he wanted to fight it. He had to be stronger. He  _ needed _ to be.

It didn’t matter if no one was watching. He was—he was—

He choked on a gasp, feeling the inside of his throat crack. A larger stream of warm piss burst from him, drenching the insides of his thighs, and the damage was irreparable. He sobbed, great silent heaving gasps escaping from his chest, soaked with disgusting yellow liquid. He knew it stained the robe. He could hear the soft  _ drip, drip, drip _ of it onto the floor. 

Again, it cooled, and dried, and his skin seemed to crack and decay. His pride wanted to keep holding on despite it. The smell began to waft through the room, and soon, every breath he took was filled with it, choking him. 

_ Why do you continue to resist?  _

It was his nature—his duty—to resist. He couldn’t let himself be brought down by such base needs. Even if he already knew from the moment that he had been left alone in this room that he would end up dirty and ruined forever.

The pressure inside him had lessened, ever so slightly. He slipped into a trance, desperately filtering out everything that continued to assault his senses. For a moment, he simply lay still again.

_ Good, puppet. Relax. _

At some point his eyes had slipped closed again, and the push of his bladder faded away, little by little. In his dream—it must have been a dream—warm, gentle hands caressed his face, whispered praise in his ears, enveloped him and made him whole again. 

The sound of a fountain.

Satisfying, peaceful relief.

His own moan echoed in his ears. It felt so overwhelmingly wonderful when he was touched that he seemed to collapse from the inside out. The coil in his stomach felt different, somehow, but he didn’t mind. It still made his body shudder, like finally sinking into a warm bath. 

And then, when he had stopped shivering, when the last vestiges of touch disappeared, he came back. 

It was illuminated, awash in light that made him squint in pain. As he slowly adjusted, his other senses returned as well. With stunning horror, his eyes fell upon the puddle below him, gathered on the white tile and seeping into the indents. The smell hit him all at once, the resulting gasp only causing him to inhale more of it. On the white, it was strikingly, unnaturally yellow, dehydrated that he was.

He choked and dry heaved, coughing, ruining his already cracked throat. There was nothing inside him to vomit, though he retched as if he could possibly throw up the shame and humiliation in his mind. As if he could be rid of his pathetic, dirty soul.

The voice in his mind laughed with barely contained delight.


	9. "take me instead"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Every 100 years, Nibelheim sacrifices a maiden to the great demon, Sephiroth, in fear of him burning their village to the ground. Cloud volunteers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy halloween!! have some thematically appropriate demon!seph <3
> 
> unfortunately, this is also the last of my backlog for daily updates, i'll try to get something out at least once a week!
> 
>  **content in this chapter:** mild dubcon, crossdressing, feminization, use of the words pussy/cunt, pregnancy mention

The corset fits just too tight on him, though he supposes it’s meant to be that way. The dress isn’t made for him, but he’s small enough to fit in it—though the bust is clearly for Tifa. It’d been easy enough to sneak in and steal. It’d taken forever to figure out how he was supposed to put it on. 

He doesn’t have appropriate shoes, but the dress extends to the floor anyways. He doesn’t have a full length mirror, either, but what he can see of himself is, well, _different._ The dress is a pure, clean white, higher quality than anything he owns. The corset curves against his hips and chest in a way that makes him perpetually short of breath, and he feels like he’s going to trip on the hem. 

He undoes the tie on his ponytail and brushes out his hair gently, parting it into two. He does his best to braid each side carefully, the way Tifa had taught him.

There’s not a lot he can do for makeup. He hadn’t had a reason to know how to apply it or get it. Finally, he puts on the veil and hopes that’s enough. It would have to be.

And so, he sets out into the dark of the night to sacrifice himself before Tifa can.

He knows that normally, she would have a few chosen people to guide her up the mountain and into the caves. He has himself, a flashlight, and his pair of black climbing boots. The dress drags slightly in the snow, white on white. 

By the time he makes it to the entrance. he’s shivering. He steels himself and enters the cave.

“Aren’t you a bit early?”

A low, amused voice echoes through the chamber, making him jump. His light goes out. He freezes.

“Well?”

He can’t see anything at all. His hands shake. Somehow, he manages slow, slow steps forward.

“Over here, sweet girl.”

A candle flickers to life on his left, illuminating a hallway down to a room—he can just make out the silhouette of a throne, and the creature atop of it. 

He has to do this. He has to, for everyone’s sake.

As he enters, more candles light—all around the room, mounted on the walls and floating near the ceiling. The throne, carved of black obsidian, raised on a stone dais, sits in the middle. The _demon,_ strangely human-like, dressed in black, silver hair cascading down his shoulders, sits leisurely on top of it. One leg crosses over the other, its arm propping up its chin. It leans forward, green slit-pupil eyes flashing. 

“My princess,” he says, voice dripping with anticipation, “come here.”

Cloud tries not to gag in disgust. The demon is—surprisingly pretty, sure, but it _is_ about to kill him. He continues forward, heart pounding. His resolve is clear, though his fear jumps in his chest, held in by the dress that cuts into his skin.

When he’s one, two steps away, the demon grabs his arm and pulls him into his lap, effectively trapping him. He gasps and fights the urge to struggle out of its hold, even as every part of him screams to run.

The demon’s fingers curl around his body, its breath ghosting across his heck. “What do you desire, my princess?”

“I—” He tries to pitch his voice a little higher. “I want you to stop threatening this village.”

“And what will you give in return?”

He refuses to meet that bright, slit-eyed gaze. “Myself,” he breathes, shaking.

The hands lift his chin, caress his cheek from under the veil. “Oh, sweet girl. You need not hide from me. You are Cloud, aren’t you?”

His breath catches in his throat. He doesn’t dare move.

The demon laughs softly. “You are perfectly acceptable, Cloud.” And then—moving aside the veil, it presses a soft, gentle kiss on his neck.

He flinches, and finally turns to meet its eyes—they’re full of amusement.

He swallows nervously and says, “Aren’t you going to eat me?”

The demon grins, showing off its sharp fangs. “Oh, certainly.” 

He doesn’t know how a soul is devoured—but it might as well feel the way it does when those fangs sink abruptly into his shoulder, twin pinpricks of pain shuddering through him. He gasps in surprise, held in place by those beautiful hands, and doesn’t know whether to resist or stay pliant. 

“Let me devour you,” it says, voice dark, and it _should_ be threatening but he only feels—only feels—

The demon lifts him up easily and sets him on the throne instead—it’s so confusing of a move that Cloud simply stares for a moment, transfixed on the way its pupils seem to dilate. It kneels before him, hands on his thighs, and flips up the hem of the dress. 

_Oh._

“Do you know my name, princess?”

“I–it’s Sephiroth.” Oh, his voice is shaking.

“Use it,” he commands, like he can read Cloud’s mind. Maybe he can.

Sephiroth caresses his bare thighs, and he bites back a cry. He covers his mouth with his fist, other hand clenched at his side. 

A soft ripping sound. He gasps, eyes clenching shut as Sephiroth’s fingers curl around his dick. His claws must have torn through the underwear—the small lace panties that he’d debated about wearing for almost half an hour. Oh, fuck. He hadn’t thought it would lead to _this._

He doesn’t know how to react, what to think, it’s so much all at once. He had expected to _die._ And then Sephiroth presses the pad of his finger to his asshole, tracing, and he feels like he might die anyways.

“Am I your first?” he asks, barely pressing in with the tip of his finger, claws carefully retracted. 

Cloud nods imperceptibly.

“It will be my pleasure to take you.” 

Something...wet brushes against him. Oh, oh fuck, Sephiroth is—he moans into his hand, oh gods, Sephiroth is licking _inside,_ slick and wet. The touch is so foreign, so new, so utterly intrusive and overwhelming; he wants to squirm away but he has nowhere to go. Sephiroth steadies his thighs with his hands and continues to _devour_ him from the inside. His tongue seems to just slide deeper and deeper, it must be a demon thing, he swears, and somehow there’s a spot—it makes him cry out even louder, biting his fist, tears welling up in his eyes. Sephiroth takes that as his cue to keep pressing against it, and Cloud almost wants to scream, it’s so much, too much, he’s going to come—

And he doesn’t, because Sephiroth withdraws, licking his lips, a satisfied smile on his face. Cloud _whimpers_ into his hand, shaking. He feels relieved, now that Sephiroth isn't assaulting his senses, but there’s this high-strung frustration from being pushed back from the edge, so much but not enough. Sephiroth watches his reaction carefully, drinking in every inch of his debauched, fucked-out look. 

“Sephiroth,” he whispers. He doesn’t know whether to beg for more or ask him to stop.

“My princess,” Sephiroth says back, still kneeling. Something visceral lies in the action of placing Cloud on the throne, but he can’t pinpoint what it means, not with that disarming, commanding gaze on him. “Will you give yourself to me, wholly and utterly, in exchange for this village’s protection, for the rest of eternity?”

“Yes,” he breathes. The air seems to shimmer with a golden light as he says it, sealing his fate. 

With that, Sephiroth touches him once again, spreading his thighs to press the pad of his index finger against his hole, slick with spit. Cloud presses his hand to this mouth again to muffle his cry. He feels as sensitive as if he _did_ come. 

“Sephiroth,” he moans, protests as the demon licks over his entrance again. He breathes a sigh of relief when Sephiroth doesn’t continue, doesn’t push his tongue inside.

“You’re so wet for me here.” Sephiroth pushes in just the tip of his finger, agonizingly slowly. “Aren’t you?”

He means to say, _Yes._ It comes out as a quiet moan.

“Your cunt,” Sephiroth murmurs, circling his finger to brush against every sensitive part of him. 

_Oh. Oh—_ he wasn’t—he should have been repulsed—he shouldn’t be liking any of this—he isn’t—

Sephiroth adds another finger, spreading his hole further, and then another. He’s so full—he can’t stop crying out, little pained noises against his hand every time Sephiroth presses his fingers against that spot. He’s crying again, dick helplessly hard against his stomach, too afraid to touch. His hole—cunt drips with slick, making a distinct wet sound as Sephiroth begins to fuck him, curling his fingers into the spot over and over and over. He can feel himself get closer and closer to the edge, just a bit more—panting and gasping and an absolute dirty mess in a demon’s cave, covered in its saliva that seemed to stay endlessly slick. 

“Seph—” 

Sephiroth stops abruptly, and Cloud _whines._

“Will you beg me to take you, princess?”

Sephiroth could have said anything right then, and he would have answered yes. 

“Please,” he says.

“Tell me what you want. In words.”

“Please, take me.”

“What exactly do you want me to do?”

He swallows. He can feel saliva drip out of him. It’s gross, and dirty, and—he can’t say it out loud. He can’t admit to it. 

“Please,” he whispers. “Please fuck me.”

Sephiroth tilts his head, waiting.

“Please…” He exhales. “Please fuck my pussy.”

Sephiroth’s fangs flash, and Cloud swears his pupils dilate. His cheeks burn in a humiliating mix of horror and shame.

Sephiroth finally rises from the floor, grasping his chin and tilting it up. “My beautiful maiden. Won’t you bear my child?” 

Cloud shudders at the words, whole body shaking uselessly in Sephiroth’s grip on him. Horrified, a pang of arousal forces its way through him anyways. “N–no, I—”

“Did you not make your vow?” Sephiroth pulls him forward, lifts him up once again and settles him in his lap, sitting down. In a flash, his chest is pressed to Cloud’s back, lips brushing against his ears. 

He could take whatever the hell this was. He would let Sephiroth toy with him for the rest of eternity. But he couldn’t—he didn’t even have the capability to—to carry a child. It was a ridiculous notion.

Sephiroth wraps his arms around him, cups his flat chest through the fabric. “Oh, Cloud. I’m just teasing you, you know.” He slides his hands over the hem of the dress, smoothing it out slowly, and cups the slight bulge in the middle. Cloud gasps, flinching backward, with nowhere to escape the touch.

Mercifully, he stops, though his hands grip Cloud’s hips instead, and— _oh._ Something firm presses up against his ass. He’s lifted up—positioned carefully—he takes a deep breath and exhales it in a sharp gasp as Sephiroth finally enters him, slowly letting him sink down onto his cock.

Oh, gods, he’s so _full._ Even shifting a little causes his nerves to be overwhelmed with the feeling. He clenches instinctively. Sephiroth’s nails, almost-claws, dig harder into his skin.

And then he’s lifted into the air, the friction of it making him moan helplessly, until just the tip remains inside him, then slammed back down, and the noise that tears from his throat is almost a scream. Sephiroth moves him like a toy, up and back down over and over as his tears spill over and trail across his cheeks, as his moans become whimpers and pleads, as he is utterly taken apart. 

“Please, please, Sephiroth, ah, I need—”

“Your cunt takes me so well,” the demon says into his ear. Cloud shudders. “Do you want to come, princess?”

“Please, please, I need to come, please,” he begs desperately, his shame buried in his tears. Sephiroth takes him in hand, simply letting the motion of Cloud’s hips fuck his palm, once, twice, Cloud cries, “Sephiroth—” and comes all over his fingers, staining the inside of the dress. Sephiroth keeps fucking him, drawing out his wave of pleasure until it becomes oversensitive, and finally sinking in one last time to the hilt. Warmth fills him from the inside, spilling into him, full. 

When Sephiroth lifts him up off his dick and onto his lap, his hole begins to drip—he shivers at the sensation of the fluid moving inside him, slowly flowing out. It’s an utterly disgusting feeling and sight, and yet. 

He does not feel revolted. He simply feels content in his pleasure. Used, full, useful.

“My princess,” Sephiroth murmurs, turning him so that their lips meet, kissing him thoroughly so that that hole is claimed, too, devouring him from the inside out. His soul has been placed in Sephiroth’s hands, to own and feed from. His body exists for Sephiroth’s pleasure. 

For the rest of eternity, as long as Sephiroth held him, he would be his.

* * *

The cave entrance is found already sealed. In fact, it never opens again, not in the next century, nor the next.


	10. blood loss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You have mako enhancements, the protection of the planet, and my very own cells.” He cages in Cloud against the wall, though he cannot move anyways, tilting his chin up. “Is that why you bleed so beautifully?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ended up finishing this tonight so here it is!! i apologize in advance if you need to skip this one. or any of the last few, i promise the next one is more conventional, lol.
> 
> **content in this chapter:** noncon, gore, wound fingering/fucking, bloodplay
> 
> if you're still here, here are the two lovely arts that inspired this: [here](https://twitter.com/cloudcloudcloud/status/1271803611350261760?s=20) and [here!](https://twitter.com/cloudcloudcloud/status/1278317276874379264?s=20)

The blade skewers him through, sliding home, in and out the other side as if his flesh was nothing. As if his cells were so attuned to the sing of steel that they gave way with barely any effort at all. The dull pain in his torso is familiar enough that he does not give it much thought. 

Except this time he is pinned to the wall, concrete against his back as he struggles to keep his feet on the ground so that he doesn’t slice himself on the blade. Sephiroth closes the distance in a blink, leaving the sword stabbed through him as he moves to caress Cloud’s face. 

Instinctively, he turns away from the touch, cheek pressing into the wall to avoid Sephiroth’s gaze. He should be grasping at the blade to dislodge himself, but he’s just so  _ tired. _ His will to fight drains out of him, and as Sephiroth presses a kiss to his cheek he realizes that he is being controlled.

His panic is stifled as soon as he feels it, dipping back into a quiet, still submission. Sephiroth traces a finger down his chest and to the blade in his stomach, to the edge of his wound. Cloud feels an echoed hum of pleasure in his mind, soothing. 

“Do you know how beautiful you are?” Sephiroth murmurs into his ear. Cloud shudders. Against his will, his head turns forward, his eyes settling onto the sword. Where it penetrates through his entire body, blood at the edges. 

“We are joined, here,” Sephiroth says, moving back to grip the hilt. By a small, imperceptible fraction, he pulls the blade out—Cloud chokes on air as it slides through his body—and pushes it back. Cloud gasps again, the mostly ignored pain now flaring up as Sephiroth allows it to register in his mind. 

“N–no—” He cuts himself off with another cry when pain  _ burns  _ through him—Sephiroth pulls his sword out all at once, and for a moment all he sees is red—his own scream is abruptly cut off as Sephiroth takes control again. There’s so much, so much blood, all over him and the blade and Sephiroth’s hands, and he can only stare at the gaping hole in his body. 

“I wonder,” Sephiroth says, dropping his sword with a clatter, “how long you can last.” He dips his finger into the steady stream of blood. Cloud shivers under his touch, though not from pain. He should be feeling it—even through adrenaline, mako, he should have felt  _ something. _ What he  _ did  _ feel was—

“You have mako enhancements, the protection of the planet, and my very own cells.” He cages in Cloud against the wall, though he cannot move anyways, tilting his chin up. “Is that why you bleed so beautifully?”

“Shut up,” Cloud mutters. “Are you going to kill me or not?”

Sephiroth laughs in his face. “Perhaps you will wish you were dead.” His fingers trace the wound again, not quite dipping into it—the feeling that should register as pain reinterprets itself into a shock of pleasure. The hazy feeling in his mind consumes him completely, moaning aloud as Sephiroth really does slide a finger into him, inside him, between his slick flesh that lies open for him—deep, deep in his gut, a crude imitation of fucking—the blood flowing from him only makes it easier for Sephiroth to put another finger alongside the first, mapping the wrong insides of his body. He isn’t watching—Sephiroth had allowed him that mercy—but it’s enough to hear the sick squelch of his fingers pulling out. He feels all—wrong, tingly like he had lost circulation—ha, of course, he was losing so much blood. 

“Look at me,” Sephiroth orders, and his head snaps to attention. The index and middle fingers of his left hand are caked in red, steadily flowing over his palm and onto his arm. He smiles, pleased, and licks at the tips of his fingers. He even closes his eyes as if he’s savoring the taste—Cloud wants to  _ scream,  _ or vomit, or at least feel the mind-numbing all consuming pain of what is truly being done to him rather than  _ this. _

Sephiroth kisses him, his own lips parting automatically. Instead of blood, a sickly sweetness fills his mouth—he gags but he doesn’t, his senses all clogged with Sephiroth’s own. His fingers brush the edge of Cloud’s wound again and enter him,  _ except it’s— _

Sephiroth moans into his ear, easing in, in,  _ is his torso even wide enough for that?  _ Shallow thrusts like not stabbing through the other side is a little mercy.  _ Couldn’t you be normal and fuck the hole that already exists? _

“Normal? Don’t you agree this is easier?”

He thinks the worst thing about it is the sound. Every thrust out brings a fresh wave of blood that  _ squelches  _ as it bursts out, and another as Sephiroth pushes forward again, accompanied by a soft moan and wave of pleasure.  _ You’re sick, you’re so fucking— _

Sephiroth’s grip on his hips tightens and come smears into the bloody mess of his stomach. He’s not even looking, he can’t, but the image appears unbidden in his mind. A disgusting mixture of viscous white and red—Sephiroth drags his fingers through it slowly,  _ lovingly,  _ pressing it between his fingers and marveling at the feel of it. 

_ Literally rearranging your guts. _

“What a lovely way to put it.”

The haze starts to slip away. First, the dig of concrete in his back, then the taste of blood in his mouth, then the nausea as he dry heaves, and then finally, the horrible, throbbing pain of his torso. It cuts through him so badly his vision darkens at the edges—or maybe that’s the blood loss catching up to him, Sephiroth no longer holding him steady. He thinks he might have crumpled to the floor—he blacks out too fast to know—blissfully falling unconscious.


	11. defiance // crying

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sephiroth punishes Cloud.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wrote this embarrassingly quickly, so here it is! apparently the key to writing consistently is just snarky banter and smut. 
> 
> **content in this chapter:** actual consent and aftercare(!!!), impact play/spanking, cock slapping, name-calling, referenced gangbang 
> 
> no nibelheim canon divergence au. again, there is no plot here. (also i swear this was just going to be spanking and then it wasn’t _and_ it became fluffy.)

“I don’t like this position.”

“This is your  _ punishment,”  _ Sephiroth points out, gently swatting his thigh. Cloud is on the bed, naked on all fours, presenting his pretty, unmarked ass. “You have no say in the matter.”

“What, you don’t want me lying across your lap instead? Sir?”

That earns him a sharp slap to the top of his right cheek. He hisses in pain. Sephiroth smiles to himself. Building Cloud up to outright moaning and begging was always nice.

“Do you have anything to say for yourself before we begin? Perhaps an apology?”

“Oh, I’m sorry that”—Cloud exhales a little shakily—”that Shinra puts all these mako-enhanced guys together and expects them  _ not _ to fuck each other.” 

Sephiroth silently agrees, but he swats his ass in the same spot anyways. “So your solution is to pass yourself around like the local slut? And yet you return to me every night expecting no repercussions.”

“Don’t you like it? Sir? I haven’t had a chance to clean inside my ass yet.” 

For that, Sephiroth aims the slap at his asshole. Cloud lets out a half-exaggerated breathy moan. Sephiroth considers shoving in his fingers and spreading them to let the come drip out—perhaps later. “Would you like to regale me with the tale of your depraved actions?”

“Oh, I have a choice?”

“Your choice is between twenty full strikes or ten.”

Cloud laughs, all confident and careless. “They’re always scared. Because they know I’m yours. They always handle me like I’m a delicate little possession.”

“And what do you say? Count.” He hits just where his ass meets his thigh.

“Ah—one.” He pitches his voice a little higher, a little softer. “Please fuck me. He won’t mind, I promise, he likes it when I—two!—when I come home filled with someone else’s—three, someone else’s come.” Cloud moans his loudest yet as Sephiroth hits him three more times in quick succession, gasping out the numbers. He slumps forward, weight resting on his elbows.

For a moment, the only sound is Cloud’s short, heavy breaths. Sephiroth palms himself once, twice to take the edge off. “Did I order you to stop?”

“Oh,” Cloud says breathlessly. “Oh, Zack came. Literally—seven, he came all over my face—” He cries out sharply,  _ eight nine ten,  _ gasping as Sephiroth continues to abuse the same spot on his left cheek. It blooms a beautiful red. Still, he chokes out, “Said he was jealous that you got this pretty little toy all to yourself, didn’t think the rumors of me being a whore were true.”

“On your back, now,” he snaps. Cloud moans at having to settle back on his bruised and reddened ass. “Are you aware of how pathetic you are? One person isn’t enough to make you feel sated, wanted?”

Cloud’s eyes are on display for him now, narrowing. “Are you aware of how insecure you sound? Think I won’t come back because someone else has a better dick?”

Sephiroth slaps his cock, hard and already leaking slightly against his stomach, with the full force of his palm. Cloud  _ screams. _ His cock twitches and dribbles a little more, his whole body shaking. Then he hits closer to his balls, and Cloud screams again. There are tears in his eyes now, Sephiroth notices. Good.

“Anything else you have to say, slut?”

Through tears, Cloud manages, “H–hit me harder, sir.”

Oh, he does. He hits again, and again. Cloud’s noises are delicious. His cock is so, so red, inflamed and sensitive and still hard, making a mess of precome on his stomach. Sephiroth paints his thighs, too, alternating for a little relief. He can see the way Cloud keeps tensing for it, which only makes it sting more. 

“Can you come like this? Do you fall apart at any touch, as long as it’s aimed at you?”

“Pl–please, ah, sir, please—” Sephiroth aims a slap at the head of his cock. Cloud’s tears are streaming down his cheeks now and into the bedsheets, voice and body shuddering. 

“Do you deserve to come?”

“No, sir, but if you keep hitting my cock I wi—” He hits the head of Cloud’s cock again, only barely holding back his full strength, and Cloud just  _ comes,  _ spurting pathetically all over himself. His cry is the most beautiful one of all, loud enough that the other apartments on the floor might hear, desperate and piercing.

Finally, Sephiroth allows himself to pull out his dick, hard and straining against the fabric of his pants. It takes an embarrassingly short amount of time for him to stroke himself to completion, slotting himself between Cloud’s abused thighs to add to the mess on his torso. He comes with a groan, gripping Cloud’s hip with his other hand and savoring his miserable, teary expression. 

“Was that okay?” Cloud ventures, after Sephiroth relaxes against him.

“More than okay.” He takes the prepared wet towel from the bedside table and wipes gently at Cloud’s stomach, then moves him over on the bed and climbs onto it himself, leaning down to kiss at his tears. “Are you alright?”

“If by alright you mean deliciously sore, then yeah.” Sephiroth grins and playfully pokes at the tip of his dick, making Cloud gasp and then cry out indignantly. “Fuck, that hurts.”

“Do you want a Cure?” he asks, caressing Cloud’s face softly.

“I wanna—” He wraps his arm around Sephiroth and tries to pull him closer. Sephiroth moves closer for him, so that his face is buried securely into Sephiroth’s chest. Cloud’s voice comes out muffled, though he hears it perfectly fine. “Are you sure that was okay? I didn’t really think it all the way through, when I mentioned—” 

“It’s alright,” he assures, rubbing circles into Cloud’s back. “I honestly didn’t expect you to be so forward with it.”

Cloud laughs, a cute little sound into his chest. “Thanks for indulging me.”

“I enjoyed myself plenty too, Cloud.” 

“I’m yours, you know that, right?”

Sephiroth kisses the top of his head. “If you truly wished to do those things, I wouldn’t stop you. Though I  _ would _ ask that you allow me to watch.”

Cloud lifts his head to look at him, grinning. “Fuck. I don’t have the energy to go another round right now, you know.” 

“Hmm. Shall I push you harder next time?”

“Still up to doing it again?”

“You have no idea,” he says, tone serious, “how absolutely beautiful you are.”

Cloud averts his eyes. “Okay, okay. You don’t have to flatter me.”

“I am simply speaking the truth.”

Cloud still looks like he doesn’t believe him, but he drops it, too exhausted to argue. “Heal me in the morning, would you? Before I wake up.”

“Okay.” Sephiroth draws him in for a kiss, slow and relaxed. Cloud’s eyes flutter closed, content.

As he watches Cloud drift off, he wonders how such a beautiful and caring creature fell into his lap, and is infinitely grateful for it.


	12. broken down // broken trust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sephiroth takes care of his kitten.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here's something a little longer and with a little more plot!
> 
>  **content in this chapter:** dubcon puppet cloud, petplay, human furniture, collars, hand-feeding, cock warming, using a pee pad, enemas. brief mentions of: caging, wetting, pregnancy

In his dream, the mirror is broken.

The shards lie strewn across the floor, and when he picks one up, angling it, there is nothing in its image, only the blank wall behind him. 

The room shifts—the walls fall away, and so does the floor, until the only things left are the empty frame of the full-length mirror and its glass shards floating in the darkness. 

He wants—no, he _needs_ to piece them back together. He tries to grab another shard, but he cuts himself on it. The pieces don’t seem to fit together at all, no matter how many he gathers. The edges seem to keep changing the moment he finds something that might slot together. In his frustration, he slices his fingertips open. The blood makes the glass slippery. This isn’t going to work, he knows, but it’s all he has left, and if he can’t do something as simple as this, then what does he have left for him?

As if deeming him unworthy, the pieces disappear, too, and he is left alone with the empty shell of the frame.

* * *

“Do you understand your place in this world? You are merely a tool to the Planet. I will cherish you as you deserve, my puppet. You will be mine, and I will never cast you aside.”

* * *

The gentle pressure on his back grounds him. It’s not long before his eyes slip closed and he slips into the familiar, quiet trance of submission. His body used to ache, his hands and knees sore for hours after, but the position is so natural to him now he only feels content. His eyes slip closed, and the world becomes the occasional sound of a page turning and the press of his master’s heels when he shifts his legs. 

“Pet?” A gentle tug at his collar.

He must have dozed off for a bit. Sephiroth stands before him, his leash held in one hand. He whines softly in response.

“Would you like me to feed you today? You’ve been such a good kitten lately.”

He pads forward to rub his cheek against Sephiroth’s legs in enthusiastic agreement, mewling. His master pets his head and chuckles. “Alright, come here.”

They make their way into the kitchen, where his food and water bowls sit in their usual spot by the wall. He remembers Sephiroth having to hand-feed him at first, before he learned how to use them. Now, only treats are given to him by hand, but to have a meal? He presses himself close to Sephiroth’s legs the whole way, excited.

“Sit.”

He sits back on his legs, hands folded in his lap, waiting patiently. He knows he needs to keep his posture, but he steals glances up at Sephiroth while he prepares their meal. He likes when his master will lean down and have him sample it from his fingers. Soon, the room is filled with a delicious, inviting aroma. He sniffs the air eagerly.

He watches as Sephiroth retrieves a spoon from the drawer and dips it into the pot, then holds it out to him. He inhales deeply. It’s a simple beef stew. His stomach rumbles, but he doesn’t move to take it.

“Pet?”

He nudges Sephiroth’s hand very very softly, so as not to accidentally spill it. The first and only time he’d made that mistake, he’d been left in the cage for three days. 

“It’s hot, pet.” Sephiroth shakes his head, but he persists. His master sighs and blows on the spoon a few times, then tips it into his other hand. Immediately, he dives forward to lick at it. The meat is soft and flavorful, the sauce lovingly sweet. He laps every drop of it from Sephiroth’s fingertips and swallows gratefully, humming in pleasure. 

And so he feeds him, bite by bite. More than once his eyes slip closed in bliss from the taste, from being able to touch Sephiroth. When he’s done, the spoon is left in the pot, and Sephiroth steps away to eat his own serving. Without needing his master’s lead, he crawls over to the dining table and slots himself under it, right in front of the chair. He waits, sitting back on his heels again, until Sephiroth sits down. 

His master pulls out his cock for him, and he takes it completely inside his mouth all at once. He very much appreciates the food, but this is his favorite part of the meal, savoring the fullness in his mouth as he steadies his breathing. It’s another position he had to get used to. He sits quietly, listening to the sounds of Sephiroth eating. He is not to disturb him, or fuck himself on his cock, only stay still, prepared. 

He dozes off again, comforted by his master’s smell and taste consuming his senses. 

Some time later, Sephiroth slides a hand around the back of his head and taps gently. He blinks himself alert and slowly slides back to lick and suck at the tip. He takes his time running the flat of his tongue over every bit of his cock, now that he can properly take care of it. Spit trailing from his lips, he swallows, taking it into this throat again. 

Sephiroth takes the cue to dig his fingers into his hair to use him. Back, and then forward until he needs to suppress his gag reflex. At first, Sephiroth moves slowly, letting his cock smear against his cheek, his lips. He savors it, the wet slide of it, wants to be marked everywhere by his master. Soon, the movements speed up, nails digging into his scalp; he hears breaths quicken. Dragged backward just enough, so he can taste the come instead of it just going down his throat.

He mewls softly when the fluid finally hits his tongue, closing his eyes to indulge in the last part of his meal. He licks stray drops off the tip, letting the sticky warmth settle in his mouth for a few moments before it becomes diluted with saliva. Swallowing gratefully, he drops to his hands and knees again, waiting for his master.

A tug at his leash signals him to move out from under the table and to the side of the chair. Automatically, he opens his mouth to show his clean tongue.

“Good kitty.” Sephiroth pets him and he leans into the touch, humming contentedly. “Shall we get you clean for tonight?”

He mewls affirmatively, pulling slightly in the direction of the bathroom. Sephiroth leads him into the room, then unfastens his leash and sets it to the side. “Go on, kitten.”

He crawls to the large pad in the corner, freshly changed, centering himself to make sure not to spill. From behind him, Sephiroth gently wraps his hand around his cock to aim it properly. He breathes out and releases, moaning softly in relief. His master curls his hand further and he shudders in arousal. The only sounds are his own and his piss hitting the mat.

The first time Sephiroth had brought it out for him, he’d spilled too much onto the floor. He remembered begging for his master to help him, because he couldn’t hold himself properly with his hand coverings on. He wasn’t allowed to go at all the next day, not until after dinner when Sephiroth coaxed an orgasm out of him in the bath and let him dirty himself. 

The stream slows to a stop, and Sephiroth uses a towel to wipe him off. He’s partially hard, mewling at the touch, but he doesn’t dare press into it. He really really doesn’t like the cage, when Sephiroth doesn’t touch him or speak to him and his whole body starts to cramp after a few hours. 

Next, he climbs into the bath, large enough for both of them to sit comfortably. He lies on his back, legs spread for easy access as Sephiroth prepares. 

His master sets the syringe-like bottle on the edge of the tub and sits down in front of him, fully undressed. He grasps the end of the plug in his ass. It’s pulled out all at once, and even though he expects it, he gasps and immediately bites his lips to stifle the sound. Sephiroth pushes in a lubed finger, circling, then picks up the bottle. 

He feels the tube enter, shivering. He flinches at the first burst of liquid, then slowly relaxes as the steady stream enters him. He knows that cleaning isn’t playtime, but he loves feeling full, full enough that he can just barely hold it in. Sephiroth caresses the curve of his stomach as it fills, until the bottle is empty. The tip is withdrawn, careful not to scrape against his walls lest he flinch and release any. 

This is his favorite part, when his master moves behind him and cradles him against his chest, whispering praise into his ear as they let the liquid set. Sephiroth rubs circles on his stomach, comforting and satisfyingly full. How beautiful it looks, curved like that, like he was carrying kittens of his own. He likes that idea very much, but Sephiroth says they have to wait just a bit longer so they can fix him properly. 

When his insides start cramping, he mewls to let his master know. “Let go, pet.”

He relaxes, letting the dirtied solution all slide out of him, running down to the bath drain. He loves this feeling of release too—just as good as when his master lets him come, which is rare, but this he gets regularly, and he sighs in absolute bliss. Sephiroth pushes against his stomach to help encourage the last streams of liquid from him, then turns on the water.

Sephiroth cleans the outside of his hole first, the showerhead in his hand. He gasps and mewls and sinks into his touch, everywhere, using a soft sponge to clean the rest of his body, shampooing and rinsing his hair. His nails rake against his scalp in a way that makes his whole body tingle. Everything smells faintly of lavender. As usual, he almost falls asleep in the bath, only coming to when Sephiroth lifts him out of the water and begins drying him off, having set him on the large fluffy absorbent rug. 

His cock has gone soft, which is good. It’s harder to fall asleep if he isn’t. He hopes his master is in a good enough mood to have him sleep next to him tonight; it’s getting colder lately.

The motion of the towel in his hair sends tingles down his spine, too. Sephiroth moves to dry his own hair, and he curls up on the rug to wait. It takes a while, with such long hair, though he loves it very much, the way it always brushes against his bare skin when they touch. 

His collar is switched out, his leash refastened, his plug slid back in. In the bedroom, his master pauses before the bed. “Kitten, are you cold?”

He mewls and pushes his head against Sephiroth’s hand. 

“Okay, pet, you can come up.” He rubs his cheek against Sephiroth’s thigh in excitement. He waits for Sephiroth to tie his leash to the bedpost, then clambers onto the mattress, snuggling under the soft sheets. Sephiroth joins him, pulling him close, pressed back to chest again. So warm. He hums, content.

“Sleep well, kitten.”

He falls asleep easily, comforted by the press of his master against him.

* * *

One day, he wakes, but he is not in his master’s bed, or even in his own one on the floor, or in the bath, or under the table, or in front of the sofa, or in the cage, or anywhere at all in the house. 

His collar is _gone._ He can’t feel his plug, either. 

All at once, he can’t breathe, can’t breathe, his chest hurts so much, he’s shaking, bringing his knees to his chest and holding them, his hand coverings are gone too, everything is gone and his master has disappeared. He can’t help it—he whines, high and loud, tears threatening to spill. 

He hears footsteps outside the room. He flinches, then freezes in his panic. There’s no way his master would leave him like this, alone under a blanket in a bed that isn’t his without his collar; something must have happened. He pulls the sheet over his head and curls into a ball and hopes whoever it is won’t come in.

“Cloud?” Not his master’s voice. No. No. No.

The door swings open, the blanket is peeled back, but he shuts his eyes and curls tighter into himself.

“Cloud, it’s okay. It’s just me. You don’t have to hide.”

He does not move.

“Please, I promise I’m not going to hurt you. It’s me, Tifa. Do you...remember me?”

Remember…? What was there to remember? All he knew was Sephiroth. That was all there was. He whines in distress, wanting to cover his ears and pull the blanket back over himself.

“Cloud? Are you...I couldn’t find any injuries on you.”

He wants the voice to go away. He mewls, loud and complaining, in a way he’s never dared to before. He knows his master wouldn’t like it, but he’s—he’s—

“Can you...can you speak?”

He mewls again, in the same pitch and volume. He _hates_ that he can’t feel the press of his collar when he does it. His master would never leave him alone like this. His master wouldn’t leave him with anyone else.

“Oh, gods, he took your _speech?_ If he wasn’t already dead I’d—what did Sephiroth _do_ to you?”

Sephiroth.

His eyes fly open in shock, on instinct, staring wide into a stranger’s gaze. It’s not green and the pupils are round. 

He makes a questioning sound, cautious. 

“Cloud? It’s Tifa. From Nibelheim. From Avalanche.”

No, no, no, _Sephiroth._ He turns his head to the side and whimpers.

“Before you left for Midgar, you told me you wanted to be a SOLDIER. We sat up on the water tower, and I–I told you to save me in my time of need.”

Confusing words. There’s too many of them. They aren’t a command, or praise, or _kitten._

“No? ...I guess I was too hopeful. That I might be able to stir up some old memories. But Sephiroth took them all.” 

There. Again. He mewls at it.

“You...you’re trying to say something about Sephiroth?”

He whines.

“Mentioning him makes you feel worse, doesn’t it? I’m sorry.”

He whines louder, and desperately snatches up the edge of the blanket. He lets out a choking, heaving sob. He only cries when his master introduces him to something that he isn’t trained for yet. He doesn’t mean to cry, but tears are streaming down his cheeks, his chest is tight, and everything is _wrong._ He needs his master back so badly. It’s okay if he has to stay in the cage or sleep on the floor, he’ll never think of anything more again. 

“I...I don’t know if you can really understand me, but you deserve to know, at least. When we defeated him, he kept saying we had a choice, to take you back or set you free along with him, and of course we wanted you back. But we didn’t know you were...we hurt you, by taking you back. I’m sorry, Cloud. I’m so sorry.” 

He doesn’t know what _cloud_ is. He doesn’t know why _sorry_ is being said to him. It’s all too much and he just wants his master to come and pet him and tell him to stay still as he sets his feet on top of him and lets him be useful but everything is wrong wrong wrong and this horrible voice, higher and softer and not his master at all won’t stop saying things he can’t understand.

So he cries and cries and he hears crying that’s not his own, and then the footsteps finally go away. He whimpers underneath the blanket and stays utterly still until eventually, he falls asleep.

* * *

“Look, kitten.”

His master guides his gaze to the mirror. It’s so big he can see almost all of himself, seated in Sephiroth's lap, and Sephiroth behind him, too.

“Right here, pet.” Sephiroth traces his hole, where his cock sits inside. “Look how you’re full.”

He looks more closely. There, between his spread legs, is his hole, filled by his master’s cock. He moans at the sight of it, speared open as Sephiroth fucks into him. He watches his own gaze, eyes fluttering open and closed with each thrust. He meets Sephiroth’s eyes, too, green with slit pupils like his, like they’re glowing. His master smiles at the mirror, at _him,_ and takes his cock in hand. 

“You’re so beautiful like this, kitten.”

They watch, together, when he comes, mewling; his whole body tenses and he forces his eyes open to keep looking at their reflection. Sephiroth doesn’t stop, fucking him through the waves of pleasure, even when he relaxes against him, worn out. 

His come is sticky across his stomach, staining himself white. Every thrust inside him feels completely overwhelming, a stab of pleasure that threatens to consume him, and he loves it all. It’s hard to focus, between his master’s loving gaze and his gaping hole, and even though he feels exhausted, he basks gratefully in all the attention. His master almost never takes him on his back, so he rarely gets to see him like this—the mirror is such a wonderful gift that he can’t help whining each time Sephiroth enters him. 

His master bites into his shoulder as he comes inside—claiming him as his own, his loyal pet. He stares, transfixed, as Sephiroth’s eyes slip closed for just a moment, as his hole takes all of his master’s cock. 

For a while, his master does not move to disjoin them. He basks in the reflection of Sephiroth’s half-lidded gaze, pleased and sated. 

“Watch, pet.”

He hasn’t stopped watching since his master had first told him to, but he snaps to full attention. Slowly, Sephiroth eases his cock out, come already beginning to dribble out with it. His hole clenches around nothing and spills more come onto his master’s thighs. He whines, feeling empty. 

“Mmm, you’ve made a mess, pet.” His master scoops up some of it from his stomach and feeds it to him. He laps it up as graciously as he always does. Sephiroth presses his fingers inside his hole, too, making sure to clean him thoroughly while he licks up every last drop. 

When he’s clean, Sephiroth puts his plug back in, and they lay back across the bed. His master’s arms curl around his body comfortingly, possessively.

“My kitten. Will you stay here with me, forever?”

He mewls with joy, rubs his cheek against his master.

“Then I will never, ever leave your side.”


	13. breathe in, breathe out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cloud’s body has never been his own. Maybe he likes it that way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cloud makes bad decisions, basically.
> 
>  **content in this chapter:** consensual mind control, under-negotiated kink, breathplay/choking, safeword fail

“Are you completely certain about this?”

He sighs in frustration. “Yeah. I’m fine. I have my nonverbals.”

“There is still the possibility that—”

“I _trust_ you, okay? This is different from...from before.” 

He’s lying back, already undressed on the bed. Above him, Sephiroth’s eyes are still scrunched in concern. 

“C’mon.” He nudges Sephiroth’s leg with his own. “I’ll be fine.”

Sephiroth still looks like he doesn’t believe him, but he takes a deep breath and says, “Then…I will start. Now.”

Immediately, he feels his arms and legs go rigid of their own accord. He tests his fingers—still good. In his right hand is a round bell he can drop if he needs to—though if Sephiroth accidentally took control of his hand while he couldn’t speak, he would be helpless. It’s not foolproof for either of them, and they both know it. 

They’ve been testing the limits of Sephiroth’s control for a while now. It’s honestly terrifying how much he can do—of course it was. If he concentrated extremely closely, he could force only certain fingers on his hand to stop moving, and recently they’d discovered he could make Cloud’s throat constrict (“Hey, do you think you can choke me with your mind?”). It was other things too, like making him come on command, forcing his orgasm to last for too long, getting him hard almost immediately afterwards. 

They’d messed with all of that, but Cloud hadn’t asked directly for breathplay until now. And of course Sephiroth was reluctant.

Sephiroth is straddling him, caressing his cheek gently. He’s stalling. 

“Please, sir,” Cloud says, high and breathy just to taunt him, and _that’s_ when everything shifts.

When Sephiroth takes complete, active control, it’s like something’s nagging him at the back of his brain, like something’s just not quite right. His conditioned, instinctive response is to fight back, of course, but he blatantly ignores it. He sinks into that hazy, pleasureable headspace easily, where nothing exists except for Sephiroth’s will. From the way that Sephiroth’s eyes widen, he can guess that his own have turned green to match. 

“Puppet.” Sephiroth’s fingers still rest on his cheek, though the grip has turned more possessive, bruising. “You desire this.”

A statement, not a question. Cloud knows it is the last of Sephiroth’s resolve, to ask again for confirmation indirectly. 

“I want you, sir,” he says, because his throat is still free. As soon as the last syllable leaves his lips, the haze settles across the final part of his mind, like a key clicking into place. His willing want mixes with the encouraged desire from Sephiroth’s own, filling his veins with a delicious cocktail of repulsion and arousal. 

He can’t, shouldn’t want, and yet. 

Sephiroth sinks his teeth into his pulse point. He moans graciously and shudders—except he doesn’t, because his body remembers Sephiroth better than himself. His sounds, his pleasure are free, but they are Sephiroth’s, too. His neck continues to be covered in bites, bruises that Sephiroth laves his tongue over to soothe. Preparing for the pressure to come, he thinks. Like Sephiroth was opening him up.

He thinks that if Sephiroth were to slit his throat at this moment it would feel just the same; another mark, another claim. 

“Sweet pet, it’s not quite as interesting if you aren’t conscious.”

That kind of thought springs unbidden, hidden deep beneath the surface, let out by the haze that seeps into every single one of his cells. Unshakingly tied to violence. Again, he pushes down his panic.

“Breathe.” His chest rises before the word is even out of Sephiroth’s mouth. There is no need for him to say it, but it feels...nice. There is nothing but Sephiroth. He is nothing but Sephiroth. The deep breath is exhaled.

It is quiet. Only Sephiroth’s breathing. 

A growing, urgent pressure sits on his chest, his head. Nothing blocks his airways. 

He’s tried it before, just holding, holding until he physically _couldn’t,_ and he can feel himself ready to burst. And then he pushes past that edge and his vision blurs _hard._

Green, green. Bright and flowy and green. Like—glass. A glass tank, him, green, his whole body, floating,

_Breathe._

The air rushes so fast he would have flinched, choked, the green starts to fade a little, maybe he’s being taken out, he doesn’t want to be hurt, though, _please please please_

_Color?_

Everything of him, is green, he thinks, sinking beneath his skin.

Frozen again, he had just been, recovering, maybe the air wasn’t, air, air, pooling in his lungs, was he supposed to burn like that? Burning. Everything—it was the smoke inside him, bright orange licking across his body, 

_Breathe._

No, it was the smoke, he couldn’t, but it went in anyways, searing his throat, his eyes, tears falling, 

_Cloud?_

* * *

“Cloud!”

He tries to make a questioning noise, but his throat throbs. His vision slowly comes into focus.

“Seph?” He tries again. His voice comes out cracked and raspy.

“I hurt you,” Sephiroth breathes, and Cloud realizes his eyes are wide and terrified. “I couldn’t—”

“Not your—” He coughs, then whispers, “Not your fault, Seph.” It comes back to him, then, the flashes of the past that had trapped him completely. So…inconvenient. Ugh. 

“I couldn’t feel it,” Sephiroth says miserably, “I thought—” He stops, swallows. 

Cloud’s torso is sticky. Oh, he had come during that. Huh. Still whispering, he says, “Not your fault. Didn’t know I would react like that. Were you touching me?”

“No. Cloud, I—”

“I’m _fine._ It would take more than that to kill me.”

“I couldn’t feel your distress _at all._ Cloud, I cannot—”

“Seph.”

“We cannot do this anymore.”

“Seph, I know you didn’t mean to do that. I asked for it, and then I didn’t tell you when I needed to stop.”

“We are not doing this ever again.”

“That’s...fine. Just come here.”

Sephiroth, still standing at the end of the bed, stares at him. 

“Make it up to me. Come here.”

Reluctantly, he does. Cloud welcomes him in under the covers, arms wrapping around his body protectively. 

“I’m sorry,” Sephiroth chokes out.

“I won’t ask you for it again. I promise.”

Sephiroth shakes against him. Cloud pulls him even closer. 


	14. fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You are a monster, and you show your puppet his worth in the only way you know how.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wanted to experiment with 2nd person—i hope it came off okay!
> 
>  **content in this chapter:** noncon, underage (cc cloud), somnophilia, gore, bloodplay

You meet him. He is not of note, not yet. 

Even before you set out, you feel there is something about to go wrong. There is no reason for you to be assigned to this mission. You do not question it. There is not a point to it, questioning.

Your friends have deserted you, and you might as well have killed them yourself, except you were too scared to do that, too. 

So when it is offered to you, you take it. 

You are not human. 

You know this. You knew, when you first saw them, two boys your own age, laughing and playing. Everything you had to learn, was from them. How to act and talk and question, because you could pretend.

He is the first thing that is  _ yours. _

When tools are valuable, you break them over and over until they come back stronger. You strike their weaknesses so they will learn how to eliminate them. And then you do it again, and again, until they become perfect. 

You understand, of course, what you are. You are not human. 

You are as human as the flames licking across the ground where you walk. He meets you, and you know who he is, and who he will become. You must destroy him now, to ensure your success. 

He screams. You learned not to. He bleeds. You healed faster. He cries. You cannot. 

All of those weaknesses, you will fix. 

You sear that into his skin. Your hands on his hips, which burn so easily. The shadows of your fingertips on his body. All to yourself. Yours.

The heat around you is a different heat than the fire you set. It engulfs you, your outer shell of a human, telling you how satisfied you are. 

His voice pleads, telling you to stop. You tried that, once. 

You want to feel more. The heat of his body, while the last embers of his birthplace smolder. You do not have a birthplace.

As much as you destroy him, he is useless dead. That’s what you like—his resilience. You do not want to give him up, but you must for now. It is the easiest path, the one you know. It makes not a difference the place you make him bleed. 

You find him, perfect, yours. This is the right moment. There is nothing to be said about the beauty of humans except for him, you think. He is asleep, suspended in the lifeblood of the planet, thrumming with pieces of your own kind. 

_ Reunion. _

Your hands, splattered with the blood who dared to stand in your path. They have done their part, in making him complete for you. 

You hold him in your arms, and you imagine the blood is his.

When you sink blade into flesh—a marvel of human material—pressed deep, tightly enough, it does not flow. Only when you pull back, with space between them, are you dipped in red. Your own human shell acts the same way, as has been demonstrated to you since birth. Your own fascination—his body held so close to you, and if you willed it he would wake, though you want to study his peaceful, drifting expression, the lines of his face no longer contorted in anger, fear. 

You place him on the table, a table like the one you have always lied on, and you expose his skin, healed and unmarred and smooth underneath your palms. Like you never touched him at all. The blood on your hands is almost dry, coming off in flakes to stain his skin. So much of it, just for you, you cannot decide where to start first. You could be quick, wrapping your hands around his throat until you could no longer hear his breathing; you could plunge your hands into his chest and his flesh would surely part for you as it always has, digging out his heart, all for yourself. You could part his lips and dip your fingers in, in, in, nothing to stop you from exploring, feeling the spit trail from your fingers. 

And of course, you could take him, spread his legs and lick and touch and enter, mark him from the inside again, no resistance, no crying and screaming. Though would you not want that? What  _ do _ you want?

You want to see him bleed, but your hands are dirty, and you want to watch his eyes, his expression. Defiance and stubbornness, wide-eyed terror and blurry tears. You press your lips to his, cold and almost lifeless if not for the exhale of air against your face, you part them and lick into his mouth. You want it, him moving against you and for you. Your hands dip into his chest, his ribs, his stomach, his hips, the bone there, solid. 

You want to make your home in all the crevices of his body. 

You are only imitating the echoes of the planet, but you touch softly, gently, caressing his body like you have never done. You mimic it, kissing at his neck, leaving bruises that will soon fade, and you remember that you need to mark him permanently. Soon, soon. When he is awake, though the shock he might give you if you did while he wasn’t is a lovely thing to imagine. 

Lying there, he is so much smaller than you. Your hand wraps easily around both his wrists. Your entire body covers his, like a shield, like a cage. 

You carry him with you, even though you might have accomplished your task by simply killing him at first sight. What a waste that would have been.

You set him down on the mattress and sheets and pillow that you took from the first house you came across, because there was no sense in cutting up his back on the floor of the cavern. Only your own touch should make him bleed, after all. He almost glows in the turquoise-tinted light, still alive, still asleep.

You wonder, how should you wake him? Perhaps you should start with gentleness, until he realizes who is before him. The way his expression would twist into anger—you want to see it again. 

His eyelids flutter open. You watch, not moving a muscle. His eyes focus, he looks around slowly, then frantically, then jolts up into a sitting position fast enough to hurt, staring in shock at you. 

You smile warmly at him.

_ What—where am I? _

You kneel by his side, cupping his face in your hand. He does not stop you, freezing at the contact. You saved him, of course. 

_ Saved—me? _

You saved him from a lifetime of eternal slumber in a tank. From a horrible fate. 

_ You’re...dead. _

You laugh. You’re clearly quite alive. Though whether he chooses to believe this is real or not, it does not matter much. And then, you decide to feed him all that you know.

It only takes a matter of seconds. His eyes narrow, he pushes himself off the mattress to stand. He is going to cut his feet on the ground that way.

_ You bastard. _

He has no weapon. He is bare. He is still horribly weak, weak, weak. You take no effort at all to pin him back down. He tries to bite at you, and you force his jaw to stay open. On his part, he screams.

He can’t form words. He certainly tries. You press two fingers flat on his tongue. He jerks his head away, trailing spit from his mouth. 

You let go. 

Of his jaw, at least. That is all.

_ You piece of shit, let me— _

You pierce him through, blade to flesh, and he sobs. A shame you had to ruin the mattress like that. In mercy, you numb most of the pain and refrain from twisting your blade any further. You study the blood at the edges and imagine what will happen when you pull it out. 

_ Please—stop, I— _

You grasp the hilt with both hands and pull. He screams again, echoing around the cavern. You let the blade vanish as soon as the tip exits flesh—and watch the blood, flow, flow, flow. You wonder how it feels, how it tastes. You do not need to wonder.

Perhaps it should not be so sweet to your senses. There is so much of it, overflowing down the sides of his hips and staining everything red. It moves so much faster than you do. A feat of a human body.

You can feel his terror and disgust pressing down on every part of you, and you glance towards his face. His pupils have turned to slits, his jaw lies slack, his being spreads itself prone to you. 

You have his body. You want to burn yourself onto his soul. 

And so you take him. You feed him the past, although he does not need much encouragement. The mattress is the dirt, the turquoise light glancing off them dark orange, the air filled with smoke. His heat is just the same, if not even better now that he is truly yours.

You take everything: his heat, his heart, his eyes, his words, his hips, his mouth, his thoughts, his breath, his life. 


	15. possession

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sephiroth helps Cloud relax.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the lateness of this!! i couldn't quite figure out what i wanted to do with this set of prompts and i ended up making it not dark at all—i hope you still like it.
> 
> no intense content warnings here!

_You’re stressed, clearly._

“I’m _aware_ of that,” Cloud whines to his empty bedroom. It’s been over half an hour and he still hasn’t managed to fall asleep. He glances at the clock on the table. Gods, it had almost been an hour, actually. 

_Then why don’t you relieve yourself?_

“You’re really saying—”

_I can’t rest if you aren’t at rest, either._

“Fuck. Okay, fine.” He clicks on the lamp and opens the bottom drawer. “What are you thinking?”

The image comes to him: _Cloud, spreading himself open on the largest dildo he owns, gaze locked on the full-length mirror to watch it move in and out of his hole._

He takes a deep breath to steady himself. “Okay. Okay.” He grabs the lube and the dildo, which is. Well. Dark purple and ridged and way too wide across. For special occasions, ordered impulsively. Sephiroth had been the one to press the button, because of course he had. 

He knows he needs to get up to at least four fingers before he can even try that thing. Sephiroth has other ideas, apparently: _Cloud’s lips parted around the head of the toy, taking it as deep as he could and then even deeper. If he pressed his hand to his throat, he could feel the bulge of it inside him._

“Gods. Seph—” He doesn’t get to say anything else, because Sephiroth just surges forward. His hand grips the base of the cock and he swallows it much farther down than is probably safe. 

_Stopped your gag reflex._

_Yeah, thanks._

Sephiroth fixes his—their gaze on the mirror. Eyes blown wide, almost glowing green, pupils slit but slightly dilated, tears forming at the edges. His lips stretched impossibly wide.

_Move, pet._

It’s not like he _needs_ to say it—or direct the thought at Cloud in the first place. Cloud can feel his intent as surely as the head of the toy presses into the back of his throat. But he does it anyway, because it’s one thing for Sephiroth to take control when he likes and another for Cloud to follow what he wants directly.

They watch together as he fucks his mouth, wrapping both hands around it to give himself better leverage. He makes a mess of it, saliva dripping down his cheek, onto his hands. He licks a long stripe up the side and swirls his tongue around the head for good measure, then dips down in one go again, trusting Sephiroth to not let him choke.

_Wish this were you?_

_I’d mark your face._

Automatically, he moans into the toy at that. Sephiroth shoves another image at him: _come across his cheek, on his tongue. Cock pressed to his lips as he licks the rest off._

He swallows around the tip at the same time the image of him does, then lets it slip from his mouth. 

It’s completely covered in saliva. The sheets are damp around it. 

He can feel Sephiroth’s want pressing in like a feedback loop now, over and over again. Finally, _finally,_ he picks up the lube again and slicks his fingers. Helpfully, Sephiroth forces his muscles to relax.

“How does it feel?”

_You are feeling the same thing._

“Yeah, but it’s better when you say it.”

“You want me to say it?” Sephiroth says. It always amazes Cloud how his voice comes out smooth and dark. The way he can feel, but not feel his mouth opening and closing. Sephiroth curls his fingers and they groan simultaneously—out loud or inside his mind, he can’t tell. 

Sephiroth knows all his weaknesses, but it only means they affect him, too. 

_Look._

Oh, fuck, when had they worked up to four fingers? He feels—so full, even with Sephiroth keeping him from clenching down. Even spread they’re not quite as wide as the toy. It’s—well, it’s still covered in his own spit. Sephiroth withdraws his fingers and dares to nudge the rim of his hole with the head.

“Don’t—”

“You’ve taken worse.” His voice slides over Cloud’s effortlessly, effectively silencing him. 

_Yeah, but,_ lube. _It’ll hurt for you too, you know._

Sephiroth laughs—but not out loud, and it’s so damn disorienting he somehow feels the rumble in his chest anyways. Not the cruel kind, just the genuine amusement kind.

And then, he retreats. He’s silent and waiting and that’s somehow more annoying than if he’d just shoved the cock inside him anyways. 

Cloud sighs and picks up the lube again. Just for Sephiroth, he strokes it like it _is_ him, makes sure his eyes are on the mirror, sucks on the tip. Is Sephiroth this big?

_Assuming I have human anatomy?_

His vast and extensive knowledge of demons and curses helpfully supplies him with, _tentacles,_ or wait, is that just Sephiroth fucking with him? 

_There was another toy—_

“Not now,” he interrupts, trying really really hard not to imagine it. He takes a deep breath, consciously relaxes his body. One hand spreads himself open, the other slowly nudges the head of the cock inside. And all the while, he watches his wide-eyed reflection, easing the toy in further, further. 

Gods, he’s so fucking _full._

Every part of his insides are thrumming with heat, inflamed by the stretch, so much of him fucked open. It feels impossible and yet he forces it in all the way to the base, letting out these tiny strained noises.

There’s no fucking way he’s ready—but this is when Sephiroth decides for him again, roughly pulling out and slamming back in to wrench another strangled, burning moan from him. Sephiroth _fucks_ him, relentless, too fast and too much all at once, and while he’s in control like this, of course he wants it too, can feel as full as Cloud does. All he can do is gasp at each thrust and watch tears stream down his cheeks and his hole spread wide over and over and _fuck,_ his other hand is held uselessly against the sheets because Sephiroth knows he can come from just this, wants to—

His hand stills with Sephiroth’s cock still inside him and he really wants to scream. He makes up for it by screaming internally. 

_Mm, that took a lot out of me to stop._

_You asshole._

He’s breathing too hard, heart beating too fast, cock still flushed and hard against his stomach. His cheeks are bright with red, his pupils still impossibly thin. His hole is still stretched wider than should be possible.

“How can you...aren’t you also…?”

“Oh, Cloud. It’s sweeter to see you like this.”

Even though he’s breathless, Sephiroth’s words roll across his tongue smoothly.

_Will you beg for it?_

_Will that get you off faster?_

“You know the answer to that.”

“This is so—” Cloud exhales sharply. “Please,” he breathes. “Please move.”

Miraculously, his hand does, in fact, unfreeze and move again. He lets out a shaky moan when Sephiroth fucks all the way inside, slow and so, so deep. He doesn’t know when his eyes had slipped closed, but Sephiroth forces them open to watch. 

_Go on._

“Please—ah, need to—please, make me come—”

_Come for me, Cloud._

He just does, keening and clenching around the toy, making a mess of his stomach and thighs. Instinctively, he grinds against it, riding out the waves of pleasure that burst through him. Sephiroth must have felt sated enough, because when Cloud slows down and pulls it out, he doesn’t try to stop him. 

In the mirror, his hole clenches around nothing for a few moments.

_Too bad there’s not—_

“Let me sleep,” Cloud groans, collapsing back on the sheets. 

_You’re a mess._

_“_ Whose fault is that?” He shuts his eyes and breathes deeply. The bone-deep exhaustion sinks into his body, making him yawn. 

Sephiroth stays quiet. Cloud drifts peacefully off to sleep.


	16. forced to beg // hallucinations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Sephiroth isn’t real._
> 
> That’s what he has to tell himself every time this happens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> back to your regularly scheduled dark content!
> 
> **content in this chapter:** noncon, wound fingering, overstimulation

Sephiroth  _ isn’t real. _

That’s what he has to tell himself every time this happens.

Seated on Sephiroth’s lap, his shirt gone, his pants undone and underwear pushed down just enough so that Sephiroth can wrap a gloved hand around his cock, hands fisted uselessly in the sheets. He can feel Sephiroth’s own arousal digging into his back as he pants helplessly to the rhythm of his touch. The leather isn’t slick enough—bordering on painful as Sephiroth moves faster, as sickening pleasure pools into his gut. 

“Pet,” Sephiroth says into his ear. “Is my touch not real to you?”

He means to answer,  _ No,  _ but a whine escapes his throat instead when Sephiroth grasps the base of his dick tightly. He’s already so close, flushed and hard and leaking and pathetic, and Sephiroth makes sure he knows it.  _ Not real, not real. _

A sharp spike of pain bursts through him, cutting right through his chest—he gasps and looks down to see bright red staining his body, blood dripping from an open wound. 

“No,” he cries, “it’s not—”

“If you won’t believe it, then I’ll just have to show you.” 

Sephiroth lifts his hand and slides a finger through the mess. Cloud whimpers and clenches his eyes shut.

None of this is real. None of this is fucking real.

Sephiroth dips his fingers  _ into his flesh. _

Cloud screams. It _ burns,  _ prying him apart from the inside, leather picking apart the folds of his skin, worse than anything he’s ever felt, worse than when Sephiroth fucks him open—it’s not  _ real,  _ what he’s feeling isn’t real at all, but tears are streaming down his cheeks and his throat is raw. 

Sephiroth curls his fingers like he’s trying to find a spot inside him, spreads them to rip him further apart, digs deep enough that he might claw Cloud’s heart out. 

And then he wraps his other hand around Cloud’s cock again, forcing another strangled cry out of him. It  _ hurts,  _ it hurts so fucking much and yet Sephiroth strokes him back to the edge, all the while fucking into his flesh with his fingers. 

“Is this real to you, pet?” 

Cloud coughs, tasting blood and bile on his tongue, a fresh wave of tears trailing down his face. “Stop,” he breathes, “please—”

“If I’m not real,” Sephiroth says, two fingers buried to the knuckle inside his body, “then why would you say such a thing?”

“Please,” he cries, unable to form anything else coherent, shattering into a thousand pieces as pleasure overwhelms him despite the horrifying pain in his chest, because of the way Sephiroth’s thumb presses into the slit of his cock, despite and because of Sephiroth murmuring,  _ Come for me, pet,  _ into his ear. 

The streaks of white against his torso mix with the blood still dripping steadily down his body, a disgusting mess of come and blood that seeps into skin and stains him forever. Sephiroth still traces an index finger along the inside of his flesh, slowly—in the brief haze after his orgasm it almost feels like a caress.

His cock is softening, but Sephiroth keeps stroking him, his own come making the glide easier. It becomes painful quickly, too sharp jolts of pleasure wracking his body much too soon, punctuated by the dig of fingers into his chest. He can hardly feel it anymore, probably lightheaded from the blood loss, though each time Sephiroth curls his fingers it sends a whole new shudder down his spine. Like there’s a spot deep inside him that craves Sephiroth’s touch.

“Stop,” he chokes out, barely lucid. “It hurts—”

“Does it?” Sephiroth claws even deeper, and Cloud spits out  _ blood.  _

He knows, he knows that there is no wound, no gaping hole in his flesh, no blood splattered on his sheets, but it won’t disappear until Sephiroth is satisfied, and he just needs to  _ get there. _

“Such a stubborn pet,” Sephiroth says, and then he finally removes his fingers to turn Cloud around in his lap. His abrupt gasp of relief is immediately stifled by Sephiroth’s hand—the fingers that had just been inside him dig into his mouth, forcing more blood onto his tongue. He chokes violently, throat spasming as Sephiroth presses against the back of his throat, trying desperately not to vomit. 

“Are you ready to beg properly for me yet?”

He can’t possibly answer like this, and yet his body seems to try anyway, helplessly gurgling blood and spit in his mouth. His lips are stained and dripping around Sephiroth’s fingers. 

It’s not real, but that thought doesn’t erase the feeling of Sephiroth defiling every crevice of his body. 

“Go on.” Sephiroth relents, wiping his hand on Cloud’s cheek. 

“Please,” he cries, voice cracked and hoarse, barely audible. He doesn’t even know what he’s asking for. “Please, sir, I—” Sephiroth touches his cock again, and he whines, high-pitched and pathetic. “S–stop, please, I can’t,  _ ah,  _ please, it’s too much—” 

“I don’t believe you.” Sephiroth presses harder into the slit and Cloud whimpers automatically. 

“I–It’s real,” he gasps out, “You’re real, and you’re,  _ ah,  _ you’re—everything, there’s nothing else I need but you, please—”

Sephiroth strokes him faster, Cloud’s body betraying him as his cock fills out again, turning everything into mind-numbing bursts of pleasure that destroy what little will he has left, because he  _ knows,  _ knows what Sephiroth wants from him each time and yet he can’t possibly do it until he’s been reduced to nothing.  _ I might be inclined to think you enjoy being broken,  _ Sephiroth had said once. 

“I need you,” he breathes, so close to the edge again, “I need you, so please—please touch me.” 

He comes, sudden and spurting into his own hand, nothing supporting his body from collapsing back onto the sheets—alone, covered in his own release, begging to the empty air.


	17. blackmail

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His body, in exchange for the world, his friends, everything precious to him. How could he not?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **content in this chapter:** dubcon/coercion, implied somnophilia

It’s easy to lose himself like this, in the rhythmic moans that fall from his own lips, matching each thrust into his hole. Sephiroth takes him on his back, hands intertwined with Cloud’s. He’s nearly folded in half, and he already knows that he’ll be horribly sore in the morning, but right now, the pleasure short-circuits his brain, making him forget.

Sephiroth kisses him, swallowing his gasp as he comes untouched. His mouth falls open. automatically letting Sephiroth take what he wants. He comes across his stomach and chest, clenching around Sephiroth’s cock helplessly—it quickly dips into oversensitivity, and Cloud is left whining and trying to twist away.

This isn’t about his pleasure. By the time Sephiroth stills and comes, making a mess of his insides, Cloud is half-hard again. For a moment, everything is still, quiet except for harsh breathing and the roar of his own heartbeat in his ears. 

The sticky uncomfortableness settles in, while his own arousal begs silently for more. Sephiroth smiles gently above him.

“Could you fall asleep like this, pet?”

“I’m still—”

 _“Sleep,”_ Sephiroth casts, and Cloud’s eyelids close despite everything.

* * *

Waking up is always the worst part. 

It usually takes a moment for it to really settle in—the soreness of his lower body, the mess on his stomach, the come dripping from inside him. He’ll need to change the sheets again, of course.

It takes a few more seconds to notice that this time, Sephiroth is _still there,_ his cock buried deep inside Cloud, back pressed to his and arms around his body. 

He shudders, clenching instinctively and immediately regretting it. He needs to—needs to get up, get Sephiroth out of here before anyone sees him, and take a really, really long shower. 

He’s stretched wide and full, and his body immediately sends a pang of arousal straight to his dick. Gods. He clenches his eyes shut and tries to _focus,_ slowly writhing his way up and out of Sephiroth’s grasp. 

Except Sephiroth pulls him back in, slamming him right back onto his cock and making him whimper.

“Good morning, Cloud.”

“What are you—why are you still here?” His voice cracks at the end—oh, his throat is sore, too.

Sephiroth hums and grinds against him in answer. “Let me have you. You’re always so quick to push me away.”

“I gave you my nights,” Cloud hisses back. “The sun is up now.”

“Is it?” Sephiroth’s breath fans across his ear. “I believe there’s a cloud in front of it.”

Cloud chokes on a gasp of half-shock, half-laughter that dissolves into a moan as Sephiroth fucks up into him in one smooth motion, grinding against the spot that makes his mind go blank, and he’s lost to the world. 

“I hate you,” he breathes, “I—”

Sephiroth wraps a hand around his cock and Cloud keens. He’s not supposed to _do that,_ not supposed to touch Cloud like it matters, stroking relentlessly, smearing the wetness from his slit all over—

Sephiroth sinks his teeth into Cloud’s neck, surely drawing blood. Cloud comes at the burst of pain, far too quickly and adding to the already dried stains on his stomach, nearly sobbing as Sephiroth continues to shallowly fuck into him. 

Footsteps in the hallway. They’re Tifa’s. He freezes, too afraid to make a sound.

“Cloud?”

“Yeah?” he answers, trying his best to not sound strained.

“Are you alright? It’s pretty late for you to just be getting up.”

“I’m”—Sephiroth moves his hips—”fine. Just tired. I’ll be down after I shower.”

“Okay. Are you _sure_ you’re fine?”

“Yeah.” Cloud bites the inside of his cheek. 

“If you say so,” she says, and he knows she’s going to ask him again later. He needs to get better at hiding how sore he is. The footsteps fade away, and he sighs in relief.

“You’re fine, aren’t you?” Sephiroth mocks. 

“Leave. Now.” Cloud tries again to shove his way out of Sephiroth’s grasp. Surprisingly, he doesn’t offer up any resistance. Cloud winces as his cock slides fully out of his hole. He sits upright, vision darkening for a moment—then the whole world turns, and Sephiroth scoops him up in his arms and off the bed. 

He flails immediately, almost clawing at Sephiroth’s face. “You _asshole—”_

“You want someone to hear you struggling, pet?” 

That shuts him up. Sephiroth carries him into the bathroom, sets him in the bath, turns on the shower and steps in with him. He tries to get up—at least have the dignity of standing on his own—but Sephiroth picks him up again, manhandling him so that his back is pressed to the cool tile.

“Hold onto me,” Sephiroth says. Cloud glares and wraps his arms around his shoulders. 

Sephiroth briefly lets go of him to position his dick, then lets Cloud sink slowly, slowly onto it. He exhales hard when he bottoms out, so full and fucked out. They’ve never done this before—Cloud was supposed to wake up alone—and something about the water cascading down on them makes everything so much more vivid. 

He closes his eyes, and the world narrows down to Sephiroth’s lips on his neck, the cock in his ass, the hands supporting him against the wall, the warmth of water hitting his skin.

Sephiroth fucks up into him slowly, making sure he feels every bit of his cock dragging against his walls. Cloud hopes his tiny noises are covered up by the rush of the water.

Why is it so damn different like this? What was wrong with him?

Sephiroth is his _responsibility,_ and Cloud is Sephiroth’s...hostage? Puppet? Fucktoy? Any of those, and yet something feels...wrong. 

Something presses against his lips. His eyes fly open in surprise, and only widen as Sephiroth kisses him. His gasp only lets Sephiroth into his mouth, devouring each and every one of his moans. Pinned between Sephiroth and the wall, all he can do is accept it.

And it’s....okay.

Sephiroth’s mouth is warm against his own. Everything slows down; the gentleness of his kiss compared to any other seems to freeze everything else in Cloud’s mind. His entire body goes lax, his jaw open for Sephiroth’s taking. 

Before long, the grip on his body tightens and warmth flashes inside him. He feels more than hears Sephiroth exhale heavily against his mouth as he comes. Cloud can feel himself slide down slightly against the tile, can feel the way it already drips out of him with the water. 

It’s good, it’s _good,_ it isn’t, he’s still hard and Sephiroth is panting against his neck and cradling him like—like—

“I’m setting you down,” Sephiroth says, and Cloud nearly slips and hits his head. Sephiroth steadies him easily. 

“What the _fuck.”_

“Sorry, I—”

“Why are you—”

“Let me take care of you,” Sephiroth interrupts, and _kneels_ in the bath. 

“Don’t—”

Sephiroth grasps his hips before he can move away and immediately takes the head of his cock in his mouth, wrapping a hand around the base. Cloud moans pathetically and desperately tries to balance himself against the wall with his hands. 

“I’m gonna— _hah,_ fall, if you keep—”

Sephiroth exhales and dips down further, and further, and Cloud sobs. It’s too much, it’s too much, really, right after Sephiroth had just _kissed_ him, just _apologized_ to him—the water hits his back like a constant reminder of how this isn't supposed to happen. 

Sephiroth is supposed to take from him, and he takes this from Cloud, too, swallowing down his come like nothing, prying his world apart like nothing. 

Objectively, it’s supposed to feel good. But he can’t—

Sephiroth smiles up at him. 

Before Cloud can say anything, do anything at all, Sephiroth is...gone.

There’s barely any hot water left, there’s still residue on his stomach, there’s still come in his ass, and there’s a black feather he needs to pick up before it starts clogging the drain. 

“...Fuck.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy new year, and thank you so much for reading along <3


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